How To Marry A Malfoy
by BDShadothe
Summary: One egregious mistake and she never wanted to hear his name ever again, but the Fates force them together eight months later. How will she cope without surrendering to or strangling him? Will she be able to? Dramione, rated M. See disclaimer inside.
1. Introduction to the Prologue

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns the world I'm writing about and all the characters/items you recognize from the books. This is a major re-write of Romantic Fool's fic "How to Marry a Malfoy", which I think has been completely abandoned because it hasn't been updated since 2003 and it's most certainly not finished. I instantly fell in love with the plot from the first chapter, but was so broken-hearted at its incompletion that I decided to take up the task myself, adding my own spins along the way. Apparently some of the story was taken from Julia Quinn's How To Marry a Marquis. I haven't read it, but I'll take Romantic Fool's word for it, so I feel it would only be right to mention it here. What doesn't belong to the people mentioned above belongs to me. Although this fic is strongly based off of another, I made a lot of changes because I didn't like everything about the way that fic was set up. The bare bones of the plot are mostly the same, but most of the meat around and connecting the bones is different. Since the major plot and characters are the same, I think of this as a major re-write, but if it seems like a whole other fic to you, all the better. For the sake of thoroughness, there are some bits of dialogue and paragraphs I copied verbatim from Romantic Fool because they were worded so perfectly I couldn't think of a better way to say them. Please don't sue me! I don't have any money to hand over, unless you count pocket lint as money.

**A/N:** I labeled this fic as Romance/Humor because it is, overall. The prologue is super angst-fest 5000 (with romance!) because I firmly believe that it is nearly impossible to pull off a good novel-length Dramione fic without at least _some_ angst at first, and I personally think that the best Romance fics are ones which start off with a Draco and/or Hermione who can't even tolerate being in the same room as the other. So this is basically a giant flashback, explaining how they got to that point. Also, regarding labels, this is pretty much Alternate Universe, in that both Narcissa and Draco defected to the Order before Dumbledore's death (which will be explained as necessary). Severus is still alive, as he was able to convince Voldemort that the Elder Wand only needed to be disarmed to pass ownership, as opposed to death, and that he had disarmed Dumbledore instead of Draco. Lastly, this story is rated Mature because there are sexual situations (all essentially consensual) and swearing.

~~~\~~~ means a scene change

***/*** means a point of view change, which may or may not also be a scene change

Okay, that's enough from me for now. Enjoy!

Introduction: The Malfoy Defense Mechanism

_So, you want to marry a Malfoy? Good luck; you will need as much of it as you can get. I only managed it by complete accident, I assure you. Malfoy men have a natural instinct to impale anyone who gets close to them with words as sharp as the best-kept dagger, and actions to prove their sincerity. If you do not have the fortitude to take hard hits to your ego (because his own ego can barely fit into the building as it is), or the will to keep going after crushing blows, quit now. You will never make it past his defenses. If you still want to try, then I will tell you what to do. It will be up to you to do it (though really, you should just quit now before you get yourself into the gigantic cesspool of a mess, also known as the mind of a Malfoy male). _

_The first level of defense a Malfoy has is a systematic screening. Upon the first meeting, a Malfoy will put you under one of two categories: Important Person or Non-Important Person. Once a Malfoy has labeled you as part of the second category, it will be near impossible without the right connections to change his mind, and you need to be labeled as the first. If you want to get a Malfoy's attention, you're going to have to do something drastic enough to catch his eye, but not in a way that would shame him to know you. His ridiculously overinflated ego only ever comes second to his own cowardice. _

_Example A: Attend a social gathering the Malfoy will be present at and make sure you are the most beautiful woman there. He, ever the womanizing prick, will find you and offer to keep you warm for the night. This will ensure his incredibly small short-term attention, which you can use as a first step toward his long-term attention. _

_Example B: Insult him because he deserves it. Make him remember you by embarrassing him so deeply that he will vow to seek revenge until his dying breath. I do not suggest this as your first plan, though bravo if you manage it, seeing as there will certainly be negative repercussions for you. But getting him to notice you and store your name under that first category is imperative. It will be possible to change the reason why you are important later, as long as you are labeled as important from the start. _

_Example C: Wait around like a simpering, clingy fool until the Malfoy of your choice is looking for a convenient wife and make yourself available. This is assuming you are merely marrying him for his money, and accept the fact that he will use you when it suits him, have sex with you only as much as is required until you provide him a male heir, and ignore you at all other times. This option is only open to daughters of a wealthy, pure-blooded family, who could create a mutually beneficial connection for both families, which distinctly lack any type of morality or soul._

_~~~\~~~_

It was the night before Graduation and Hermione Granger was having everything but fun. She was stressed, angry, and completely against the copious consumption of alcohol in Gryffindor Tower. She had nothing against people having a good time. What she did despise was people intentionally lowering their inhibitions (i.e. drowning their common sense in alcohol) and using it as an excuse to have an orgy in the Commons, meanwhile expecting house elves to clean up the ensuing mess. People were stupid, and Hermione could only tolerate so many stupid people around her at once.

Even in her own head that sounded unnecessarily harsh, but she was Head Girl and had a duty to keep the students safe. She couldn't protect them from themselves, however, so she chose to just leave.

Which was why she was now wandering around Hogwarts castle at six in the evening, when she ought to have been with her friends celebrating. She wanted to be with Harry and Ron, to celebrate the completion of an extremely important chapter of their lives, but alcohol changed everyone, even her best friends. Hermione hated change. She preferred Arithmancy problems to people sometimes, because the problem never changed from moment to moment, and there was only one right answer. All she had to do was reason it out. People, on the other hand, were inherently irrational, and no matter how much reason she applied, some people just would not listen. She felt the emotional strain of trying to take care of everyone else, and it exhausted her. Who was going to take care of _her_? She was tired of being the mother-figure, and needed a night off to herself.

It didn't help that her boyfriend, Ronald Weasley, was currently playing strip something-or-other with their housemates, especially the female ones. Hermione supposed she couldn't really get mad as long as he didn't kiss any of them, but she was annoyed that he couldn't comprehend a possible ethical problem with it and she was insecure that he might decide she wasn't pretty enough for him. It wouldn't be the first time he had abandoned her.

Pushing back that painful thought, she continued wandering. It seemed like she had been to nearly every part of the castle over a hundred times over the course of her schooling career, so she didn't really know where she wanted to go. Was there a place she hadn't been? Well, a place she knew existed, that is. Not even Dumbledore had claimed to know every room in the entire castle. Sometimes Hogwarts seemed more like a living entity than an ancient building.

Her thoughts immediately flew to the Astronomy Tower. She had never been there for its social purpose. She had been there for Astronomy class and to catch other couples snogging on her patrol rounds, but never to get snogged herself. So she decided to go. Obviously she couldn't actually snog Ron, but she could use her imagination and pretend. Get the full Hogwarts experience, as it were. Maybe after that she'd try imagining having sex in a broom closet.

Yes, Hermione Granger was bored enough to imagine shagging her boyfriend in a broom closet. How pathetic _was_ she? Why did she even _want_ to? Ron had said he respected her too much to do anything in a broom closet, but secretly she suspected that he just didn't want to. He was probably afraid that she would take points off for him trying to get the Head Girl in a compromising position. It seemed like it had been forever since they had last had sex, but she wasn't exactly begging him for it either. It was just...okay.

She blushed and tried to push those thoughts away, too. Fortunately she had reached the tower and focused her attention on climbing the steps without slipping and falling on her face. She pushed open the door at the top of the tower, slowly walked toward the nearest window, and opened it. She sighed and stared up at the night sky, breathing deeply, hoping the fresh air would clear her mind. She did not want to think about Ronald Weasley and what he may or may not be doing tonight. She just wanted to relax.

"Fancy seeing you here, Granger," an irritated voice spat from the darkness somewhere near her.

She jumped at the sudden noise and whipped around, staring intently at the shadows, searching. She silently lamented that this was proof she would instantly recognize his voice for the rest of her life. It was ingrained into her memory for all eternity.

"Malfoy?"

"The one and only, quite literally," he chuckled sardonically. She heard the sound of liquid sloshing in a bottle.

"_Lumos_," she whispered. The end of her wand lit up, and she pointed it toward the shadowy corner from where she heard his voice.

Malfoy winced at the sudden bright light. "Shine it somewhere else, Mudblood. You're giving me a headache."

He took another swig of from what she guessed was a Firewhiskey bottle, as she knew it was his preference. She had seen him sneak similar bottles out of the liquor cabinet at Grimmauld Place countless times, but not even she had called him out on it. Back then everyone had been indulging in _some_ sort of pleasure to deal with the stress of the war. She and Ginny had snogged Ron and Harry, respectively, nearly every day to relieve the tension and forget about their fears. Hermione had supposed that, since Malfoy hadn't _had _a girl there to snog him, drinking had been the next best thing.

She sighed. It looked like Malfoy hadn't kicked the habit. She couldn't escape alcohol tonight. She rolled her eyes, but pointed her wand to the side anyway.

"I'm pretty sure that's the alcohol's fault, not mine," she replied. "It dehydrates you, you know, which is what causes the headaches and hangovers. Drink some water and you'll be fine. Or a hangover potion if you can get one." Maybe her mothering side was harder to turn off than she thought.

He scoffed. "Why do you even _care_, Muddy? Besides, I thought you were smart. It's not from the alcohol; it's because I've been sitting in the _dark_. Or maybe your enormously bushy hair is preventing you from seeing how dark it is up here," he sneered.

She sighed again. Maybe she should just head straight to a broom closet. At least then she could guarantee Malfoy wouldn't be in there with her.

"I _don't_ care, Malfoy," she lied. She turned back around and looked out the window. "_Nox_," she whispered. Her wand's light disappeared.

After having grudgingly worked with him and managed to stay surprisingly on civil terms with him up until the end of the war, she knew he didn't truly believe in blood purity anymore. With that knowledge, most of his insults had lost their sting, and the comments about her hair were more exaggerations than insults, so she never had trouble ignoring those. To be honest, her hair _was _ridiculously frizzy, so she had always labeled those comments as statements of fact. She knew that even the days she had significant success in taming the frizz would still be called bad hair days by the other girls. Ginny had offered hundreds of times to help her find shampoos and spells to make her hair look "normal", but Hermione wouldn't have any of it. Her hair was a part of her identity, and changing it would make her feel like a mindless conformist. She'd take being a bushy-haired spinster over being a pretty conformist any day.

So, really, Malfoy was only complimenting her when he sneered about her hair. He was calling her a non-conformist, and she was proud of it. Of course, it was easy to shrug off his insults now because she pitied him. He hadn't been kidding that he was the last of the Malfoy line. As far as she knew, if Malfoy died without procreating, the name would die with him. She was positive that was one thing he constantly brooded about, among many others, while he drank. His mother was still alive, but with her husband dead and all the talk about family honor, Hermione was positive she'd never remarry, and she'd rather commit suicide than have a child out of wedlock. So it was all up to her son to carry on the family name. But with Lucius and Voldemort dead, any respect the family name once had disappeared. While Malfoy had gained recognition as making the right choice by fighting on the side of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, everyone believed that he had only done so out of necessity, not for the cause. So, really, what chance did he have of finding a woman who understood him enough to love him and marry him? And that was assuming Malfoy wasn't already too damaged to be able to love her back.

After a few minutes of relative silence between them, she heard the bottle hit the ground and roll off, probably into another dark corner.

"Bloody bottles are too small," Malfoy muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes but did nothing else.

A minute after that, Malfoy spoke, sighing. "Alright, Granger. I'm bored out of my mind so I'll ask. What's got your knickers in a twist? Potty or Weasel?"

Did she really want to talk to Malfoy, of all people? Sure, they could be civil when they tried, but he was still a prat. She could still just walk out and go somewhere else. But then the thought of being in a broom closet by herself, imagining that her boyfriend was there with her, became too depressing. Talking with Malfoy was better than crying by herself in a broom closet.

"Both, but mostly Ron," she answered forlornly.

"What did they do _this_ time?" he drawled. She hadn't noticed that he had moved until his voice seemed right next to her ear. She jumped and looked to her right. Malfoy had stood up and walked over next to her, then leaned back against the wall. _He must've gotten restless just sitting._

She cleared her throat and stared back out the window. Just because she was talking to the git didn't mean she had to look at him. _Though he looks almost angelic with the moonlight shining on him. Whoa. Hold on there. He's nothing like an angel, remember? Stupid git is more devil than anything. He doesn't care about anyone except himself_. _He's only talking to you because he's bored, and he's probably hoping you'll say something embarrassing so he can remind you of it later for his amusement. _She shook her head. Clearly she was losing her mind. Voluntarily opening up to Draco Malfoy and then thinking him an angel? She was heading straight for the loony bin.

"The whole of Gryffindor Tower is having a party with alcohol but without clothing, so instead of wallowing in self-pity in my room, I decided to wallow in self-pity up here." There was too much bitterness in her voice, but she couldn't stop it from spewing out of her mouth. She turned to him, feeling the rage build. Her anger at him fused with her anger at Ron so that there was a giant molten ball of it, growing larger by the second, ready to be hurled at whomever she chose. "You know, Malfoy, I don't get it. I really don't. What kind of boyfriend decides that stripping in front of other women is appropriate? In what _plane of existence_ would that _ever_ be okay? I mean, honestly! He can't think about how _I_ would feel for one bloody second! He acts like it would _kill_ him to think about _me_ for a change!"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She felt herself flushing, her body temperature steadily rising, but it felt too good to stop.

So she continued, taking deep breaths to hold back the tears. "D'you know what he said when I asked why he had never taken me here to snog? He said he _respected _me too much. Really? He expects me to believe that when he had taken Lavender here nearly _every night_ when they were together. And that was for bloody _months_. I know because I caught them in here all the time! And it _killed _me because I wanted him to take me here. I _wanted_ to feel like a girl and be snogged. Granted, it's not like we didn't snog at all. But still! We just snuck around in bedrooms and little nooks at the Burrow and Grimmauld Place. And don't even get me started on the sex. Merlin, it's like I'm just there for him! He does his thing and expects me to just do mine by myself. 'But Mione, you're just so hard to figure out! I mean, girls are...you know...weird...'" she mimicked. She stopped to huff and reinforce the thin control she had over herself.

When she was positive she wasn't going to punch something, she glared straight at Malfoy as if he were Ron. "Weird! He calls female sexuality _weird_! If I weren't so jealous of that tart Lavender I would ask her exactly what _they _did. Does he find _her_ sexuality _weird_? Or is it because I'm just some androgynous bookworm that lacks any type of reproductive system whatsoever?" By this point she was breathing hard and more furious than she ever remembered being. She had no idea she had been keeping so much bottled up. Well, she could have guessed, really, but the whole point of bottling things up was to not think about them...

Hermione turned back to the window and slammed her hand on the stone sill. She winced from the impact, but didn't regret it. Her hand stung, vaguely mirroring her own heart. A tear leaked down her cheek. She sniffed, feeling the rage drain out of her, leaving despair in its wake. "Am I overreacting, Malfoy? Should I really have expected anything different? I've been berating him for years about breaking rules and being out after hours. And he hasn't exactly cheated on me yet, so I guess that means he does care, right?"

She cursed and rested her forehead on her palm, which was held up by her elbow resting on the sill. "I don't know what to think anymore. I don't even expect you to have an answer. Maybe I _should_ just join in and drink myself into a stupor until I'm numb. It looks like that's what you were doing. Does it work?"

***/***

Draco blinked at her, shocked that the goody-goody Gryffindor Head Girl, _Hermione Granger_, had just cursed. And that's aside from the fact that she had just spilled her thoughts out like a tipped cauldron. To him, her enemy from day one. And asked if she ought to get completely smashed.

"No, Granger," he drawled, for lack of how else to respond. "It doesn't work. That bottle hadn't even been full when I grabbed it, so I'm not exactly drunk at the moment. I'd been hoping to at least get tipsy, but there wasn't even enough for that. As for you, I do not recommend you drown your sorrows in alcohol."

She nodded, agreeing that alcohol wasn't the best solution.

He was, against his better judgment, genuinely concerned for her sanity. She had provided some of his best (and worst) memories at Hogwarts, taunting her and her friends throughout the years. They had managed to stay civil most of the time while working together at Grimmauld Place, which meant she wasn't all that difficult to tolerate. She had even made him laugh a few times when the stress had gotten to them late at night. He was surprised to realize that he would actually miss it. He might never see Hermione Granger again, and therefore never again feel the thrill of insulting her (even though he didn't really mean the insults anymore) and watching her indignantly fight back. If he insulted her now, though, she looked like she might just defenestrate herself, and he couldn't have that for two reasons. Firstly, it would remind him too strongly of Dumbledore's death, which still bothered him. Secondly, she would die, and _then_ who would he insult? How would he get the same thrill? Nobody had witty comebacks like she did. No, he had to help her get her self-esteem back so he could tear it down all over again. But how?

***/***

Hermione honestly didn't expect Malfoy to say anything more. She suspected he was just as shocked as she was that she had blurted out every worried thought she'd been having for over a year now. Desperate times, she supposed. So when Malfoy finally did say something, she was caught off-guard yet again.

"I know what you need," he stated aristocratically, his trademark smirk in place.

Hermione's body half-turned to face him, confused. "What's that?"

"You need to have _good_ sex, Granger, not Weasel sex," he replied authoritatively.

Hermione laughed. Merlin help her, it was the funniest thing he could have said. Even funnier was that his remedy made perfect sense to her. She was so wound up about everything these days that relaxing and even losing herself in something pleasurable sounded like a wonderful idea. If she lost herself, she would stop thinking about Ron and Lavender, and responsibilities, and how she did on her N.E.W.T.s, and which speech she'd actually give tomorrow at the Graduation ceremony (because she had written five different ones), and what she was going to do with herself for the rest of her life. And, honestly, she had never had '_good_ sex', as Malfoy put it. Just like every other subject, Hermione had devoured every book she had gotten her hands on when she had decided to start having sex with Ron. She had read textbooks and self-help books, and even romance novels (although she had been reading those anyway), just to get some sort of an idea of what to do and expect. She had been sorely disappointed. While Ron was a generally good bloke, he tended to be a little too selfish and oblivious, which were not attributes of a good lover. She had enough self-esteem to know she deserved more than Ron's impatience when she tried to make love, and she always felt afterward like he just wanted a quick shag. Merlin, how her fantasy of Ron and a house with the white picket fence had been shattered in so many ways. She felt like she had hit rock bottom from jumping off the Cliffs of Sanity. That was the only way she could explain confiding in Draco Malfoy and actually agreeing with him about needing sex.

"I agree, Malfoy. But who's going to provide this 'good sex'?"

He raised an eyebrow in mock indignation. "Why, _I _will, of course. Who else could I rely on for such an important task?"

Another laugh burst out of her. "Seriously, Malfoy. Who? Who would sully themselves with an ugly, Mudblood Head Girl? One half of the appropriate male population would be utterly disgusted for one reason or another and the other half would probably be scared I might take points off for a bad performance." She giggled at the image in her head of deducting ten points from Hufflepuff for not rubbing the right spot.

When she finally calmed down and opened her eyes, she gasped and tried to back up, but only managed to trap herself against the wall next to the window, unintentionally holding her breath. Malfoy was right in front of her, invading her personal space, smirking at her and licking his lips. His hands were placed on the wall at either side of her, preventing her escape.

"I'm completely serious, Granger." He grinned wickedly. "As long as I take a few showers afterward I'll be fine, and I promise you need not worry about my..._performance_."

Hermione's mouth dropped, thus letting her breath out in an indignant huff, for two reasons. One reason was outrage. Honestly! After taking multiple showers? Though she did sort of expect something like that from him since old habits died hard. The other reason was sheer shock that he _looked_ completely serious. She had assumed he was going to suggest someone else, probably in Gryffindor, whom she would then dismiss because nearly every Gryffindor boy in her year had a girlfriend by now, and she already had a boyfriend. But Malfoy actually looked like he was thinking more along the lines of doing it _right now_ and she was terrified. Sure, she had heard the rumors the gossips spread about his...er, sexual prowess. But it's _Malfoy_! She shouldn't even be telling him her problems, let alone letting him help fix them! ...Not that having sex with him would really fix anything. He was probably offering just so he could blackmail her later, or rub it in her face at an inopportune time of his choosing. The last thing she wanted was to give Malfoy _more_ ammunition against her. Sure, they no longer fantasized about killing each other with dull instruments of torture, but they still weren't anywhere near being _friends_, and she sure as _hell _was not going to let him _touch _her the way Ron did.

Suddenly noticing that she had forgotten to breathe due to his proximity, she inhaled. She got a whiff of a scent she couldn't name. It was tinged with the smell of alcohol, probably courtesy of the Firewhiskey on his breath, but it was something also very...masculine. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, curious. It smelled something like Quidditch leather, old book bindings, and some kind of musk maybe? She frowned. A word struggled in the back of her head, trying to connect to her tongue. She knew she had read it somewhere, but couldn't find it. She took in another deep breath and sighed. It smelled _good_, alcohol aside. Her brain clicked. Pheromones! She opened her eyes, pleased that she found the answer. Then she frowned. _Wait a minute. Malfoy naturally smells good? That's disturbing._

Then she realized Malfoy was still smirking knowingly at her. She glared and pressed back into the wall as far as she could to put at least a centimeter of more space between them.

"No way, Malfoy! You keep your scheming hands off of me! I may be a little depressed at the moment, but I'm not _desperate_."

"Oh? Just a moment ago you were agreeing with me that you need it. What have you got to lose, Granger? Hmm?" he persuaded smoothly.

"My dignity. My pride. My self-worth. Quite a lot, actually," she huffed back. "And yes, I did agree with you that I need good sex, but I didn't say it had to be with _you_."

Malfoy scoffed. "You just listed the same thing in three different ways. Even so, you obviously don't mind the way I smell, and I'm not even trying yet."

"Like I said," she glared, cursing the fact that he wasn't lying, "keep your hands where I can see them, Ferret. I do _not_ want them touching me," she retorted.

He grinned. In the blink of an eye, his body and his lips were pressed up against hers, holding her against the cool stone wall. She squeaked in shock, squirmed, and whipped her head to the side to detach their lips. "I told you not to touch me, Ferret!" she ground out.

Malfoy had quickly moved his lips to her neck, but lifted them and whispered in reply, "You said you didn't want my hands touching you, _Muddy_, and they're not. They're still on the wall. But you didn't say anything about my lips or my tongue, or the rest of my body. Face it, Granger. You can't resist me." He resumed kissing and licking her neck.

Hermione wanted to scream. She was so _angry_ at his arrogance, it made her want to slap him just like in Third Year, but unfortunately his face was buried in her neck, which prevented that. It didn't help that he was actually pretty skilled with his lips and tongue. She shivered just thinking of how much practice he had gotten throughout the years, and what they could do to her when applied to...other parts. She shook her head defiantly. _No! I can't give into him like this. He's just using me. And, well, yes, I would be using him, too. But we shouldn't even be using anybody! Especially not each other!_ _It's just wrong!_

So she tried to scream. But she only managed it for a second before Malfoy's mouth covered hers again, so she pounded her fists against his back, the only part they could reach. She only registered afterward that she _should_ have used her hands to push him away, but she hadn't even tried.

Malfoy sighed and lifted his head, waiting for her to stop. "Are you done throwing your tantrum?" he said, bored.

Hermione glared and opened her mouth to yell at him, but closed it. Instead, she crossed her arms and turned her head to the side. "Yes," she replied petulantly. "Are you done trying to rape my body?"

Malfoy laughed. "Granger, are you _still _trying to deny it? Your body has been saying 'Yes' since I first touched you. Do you deny _that_?"

Her head whipped back around. "That's not an excuse! 'No' means no, Malfoy!"

He smirked. "So you admit it then?"

"I-" she opened and closed her mouth again, but settled for a glare. "You're incorrigible."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and backed away. "Alright, Granger. You win. I give up. Either you want me or you don't. I'm not going to stand here all night listening to you play the martyr. You'll probably run off to Weasel with some sob story about me forcing you, anyway. So fine. I'm leaving. Let me know when you make up your mind." He slowly turned around and headed for the door.

Hermione frowned. After all that, he was leaving the offer open? _Now_ what was she going to do? Go to a depressing broom closet? Go back to Gryffindor Tower? Watch Ron snog Lavender, which there was no doubt in her mind he was doing right now? Why did _he _get all the fun, all the pleasure? She had thought that she loathed Malfoy with every part of her being, tangible and intangible, but he had just disproved the half of that theory regarding her tangible parts. So now her mind had even more reasons to utterly despise him. He knew how to tease her, how to make her _want_ him, and the thought of him manipulating her body so easily made her want to kill him. But the damage had already been done. She already missed the heat from his body against hers, and as much as she hated to admit it, Malfoy practically exuded sex appeal from every invisible pore. Hermione finally saw why Parvati and Lavender, in addition to every other pubescent female in the school, fantasized about him even while despising his personality. He loved being in control, relished it, even, and that confidence combined with his natural attractiveness ensured that no female feared for her safety while with him sexually. He'd never have to resort to rape, because all it took was a seductive smirk and girls just pounced on him voluntarily.

"Malfoy, wait." She didn't remember thinking the words, but they slipped out anyway. Malfoy dropped the hand that was reaching for the door handle.

Merlin help her, she didn't want to be one of those girls. She _wasn't_ one of those girls. But he'd given her a taste of pleasure she'd never felt before. He aroused her without even _touching _her, instead merely by his _proximity_, by the knowledge that she _could _touch him if she only reached out to him. And then he only made it _worse _when they did touch. She wanted more, as much as he would give. She wanted to feel what she ought to feel with Ron, that selfish, cheating bastard.

Malfoy turned around, smirking at her, arms across his chest, and leaned back against the door. She wanted to slap the smirk right off his sexy face. _Yeah, I'm officially insane now_.

"Yes, Granger?"

She took a step forward and then hesitated. Did she really want to go through with this? _Let's make a list, shall we? Physical attraction? Check. Ensured that we won't be disturbed? Will be a check if we ward the door. Getting revenge on Ron? Double check because it's Malfoy. No strings attached? Check because it's Malfoy. He shuns the boyfriend label like dirt on his expensive robes. Guaranteed pleasure? ...Triple check according to the rumors, because it's Malfoy...Conclusion? A resounding YES!_

Hermione straightened up. "Ward the door while you're over there and then come _back_ here," she commanded.

Malfoy grinned and waved around his wand, muttering the appropriate spells. But he didn't budge after he was done. He just resumed leaning back on the door.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at him impatiently. "Well?"

"What?" he asked innocently.

"I told you to come over here," she huffed.

He laughed. "Oh no, Granger. You denied me before. You're just going to have to come get me yourself. I'm not making it easy for you."

Hermione licked her lips and gnawed on them nervously. Malfoy was absolutely going to laugh at her, well, yet again. She had never taken charge sexually before. Ron had always initiated everything. But the thoughts of Ron snogging Lavender even now spurred her into action. Malfoy was giving her the reins for the moment, so if she didn't have the confidence, she'd just have to fake it. Sod the consequences. She was going to have a good time tonight. She could always just avoid Malfoy at all costs in the future. Surely it wouldn't be that hard after they left Hogwarts.

She strode over confidently until she was standing right in front of him. She glared at him.

"Fuck you, Draco Malfoy," she said. And then she reached up and yanked his head down to kiss him.

***/***

If Draco was honest with himself, he was turned on beyond belief by her feisty attitude. She had essentially been toying with him since he had brought up the idea, but somehow she was too innocent to realize it. When he had finally had enough of her whining, he honestly expected her to run away, though it was obscenely obvious that she was attracted to him. So when she didn't move, he decided to push her more by being the one to walk away. The moment she called him back, he was delighted. Either her desire for revenge on the Weasel was so great she was completely ignoring her conscience, or (most probably) she was just far too horny at that point to care. He always had that effect on women. They always said they don't want him, but when he turned away, they called him back. He smirked to himself. He really was irresistible.

He had to admit that Granger looked adorable just standing there, thinking about how to get him to start kissing her again without surrendering more of her dignity than absolutely necessary. But he was used to this routine, too. Not all the women remained so determined when he came back, so he was used to doing a little more persuading before they finally got going. Granger, to his great surprise, was a lot easier to persuade than most. Then again, those other girls really only protested to get him riled up at their obvious deceit, whereas Granger really was thinking everything over. He was immensely pleased when Granger got that final look on her face as she made her decision. She had decided to go through with it, and nothing was going to stop her. Draco was practically flying a victory lap on the inside. He was about to give the Weasel's girlfriend the best shag of her entire life. No curses, hexes, or potions. Of her own free will. Merlin, life was sweet. He'd have to thank the Weasel later for being such a screw-up. Maybe send him a bouquet of flowers with a note attached: 'Dear Weasel, Thanks for messing up your relationship so badly that your Mudblood girlfriend came to me for satisfaction. Don't worry, I more than made up for your incompetence. Regards, Draco Malfoy.' Yes, that would enrage him quite nicely.

The next thing Draco knew, Granger was standing in front of him, glaring at him. He chuckled on the inside. "Fuck you, Draco Malfoy," she said. He raised his eyebrows amusedly as she suddenly pulled his head down to kiss her. _Ah, the sweet taste of victory_. He felt his body thrill in anticipation as he slid his tongue inside her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her to pull her against his body, just in case she got any silly ideas. Then he turned them so he could press her against the wall next to the door.

Draco loved the female body. With its various curves, incredibly soft skin, and hearing the inevitable breathy sighs of pleasure, he was addicted. While he did have certain standards and preferences, he appreciated that every body was different in its own ways. The tastes, the smells, the degrees of softness, not to mention the certain sensitive spots, which could be anywhere on her body, though there were several common spots. One was the soft skin behind the ears, another was the neck area in general. Some liked having the ears themselves stimulated. Many women had sensitive breasts, and others sensitive thighs. It was like one giant scavenger hunt, where the treasure at the end was hearing the screams and moans of orgasmic delight. Every woman's body gave clues to those spots, whether it was in the way her skin rose, or her limbs moved, or her moans and sighs. Every woman gave signs. It was simply a matter of noticing them for what they were. Each woman was a challenge of not only getting her into his bed, but keeping her so satisfied that she begged for more. Draco loved challenges.

Hermione Granger was a challenge, indeed. It had been one thing getting her to voluntarily kiss him, but now that she was determined to stay with it, she challenged him over who was going to be dominant. Naturally, he assumed that he would be the one on top, but Granger apparently had a different idea. Even though she was the one against the wall, her hands were everywhere under his robe and shirt, not that he was complaining. She was just a little more zealous about it than he had expected. But no matter.

Draco unbuttoned his robe, which Granger took as a signal to take it off. Hoping it was a pattern, he moved on to her robe. Granger didn't disappoint. Her robe fell to the floor next to his. He lifted his arms up, and she lifted his vest over his head and that fell on top of the robes. Her vest wasn't far behind. So it went until he was left only in his dark green boxers with his Oxford shirt unbuttoned, barely hanging on his shoulders. She was in her uniform skirt, white underwear, and matching bra when she paused and removed her hands from his chest. He watched her curiously.

Granger bent down and grabbed his vest and her wand from the floor. She walked a few paces behind him and laid it flat on the ground. She bit her lip in concentration and pointed her wand at it, mumbling something. Before his eyes, the vest morphed into a King-sized mattress. Draco was suitably impressed. He hadn't even thought of that. The girl's brain and determination were bloody useful at times like this.

She turned around and plopped down on the mattress, testing it. It must have been to her satisfaction, because she stared up at Draco, grinning seductively for him to come to her. Draco followed without hesitation. Who was this temptress that had taken over Granger's body? Draco didn't really care to pursue the question so long as she kept looking at him like that.

He bent down and crawled over to her, returning her own grin. When he reached her, he captured her lips and moved forward, nudging her to lie down on her back. Instead, she turned to lie down on her side. When Draco mirrored her position, she pushed his chest over and down so that he was on his back, and climbed on top of him. Draco sat up and unhooked her bra in retaliation. He slid it down her arms and then flung it to the side. She giggled and rubbed his chest with both hands. He cupped her perky, smallish breasts in his hands and massaged them, making her moan loudly.

_Breasts are sensitive, _he noted_._ He slid one hand down to her skirt and slowly inched it up her thigh, testing her reactions. She shivered and her mouth opened silently, her breathing harsh. _Thighs are more sensitive. _When he reached her underwear, he lightly rubbed over them, especially toward the front. She gasped let her head drop forward, concentrating on grinding herself against his fingers. Draco smirked. He used his unoccupied hand to help guide her hips while he bent forward and sucked her left breast into his mouth. She squeaked in shock, but her hips moved faster and grinded harder, telling him he was on the right path. After a minute or two of slowly building her up, her gasps and moans told him she was almost there. He switched breasts and felt her heart pounding quicker. He had his tongue work its magic on her nipple while he focused on slipping his hand underneath her underwear. He wet his finger with her juices and rubbed her most sensitive spot.

With him rubbing and sucking, and the occasional stroking of her inner thigh with his other hand, he wasn't surprised at all that she orgasmed soon after.

Her head flew back and her mouth opened in a soundless scream, her expression completely illuminated by a beam of moonlight. Her hands clutched his shoulders in a death grip, her hips still riding out the wave of sensation. Draco smirked in satisfaction. He sucked on her neck to mark her as she came down from her high, panting heavily.

_Merlin, she's beautiful when she orgasms. I'd probably be able to tolerate her personality if I could do this to her every night. _Draco froze for a moment, then shook his head. His horniness was getting to him. He looked at Granger again, who was a vision of complete ravishment. Her lips were still puffy, her nipples were perked up from his attentions, she now had a noticeable hickey on her neck - _Ha! Try explaining that to Weasel! _- and her eyelids were fluttering, probably due to post-orgasm sleepiness. Oh well. He'd just have to wake her up by getting her riled up again. He couldn't wait to buy that bouquet of flowers for the Weasel. Should he get one type of flower or a variety? Which would be more insulting? Red roses maybe?

***/***

"Granger..."

Hermione was getting tired. She could now say the rumors were true, even without having had sex with him yet. He was a fantastic lover. What Ron couldn't (wouldn't?) figure out over the course of two years, Malfoy had figured out in about five minutes. Well, maybe ten. It was hard to keep track of time when he was...er, working his magic. She giggled internally. Oh, yes, magic it was.

"Hmm?" she responded sleepily. Her head was still sort of foggy, too. It really made her wonder, had Malfoy truly just given her the best orgasm of her life? So far, absolutely. But if it was all downhill from here, that was quite depressing, wasn't it?

"What kind of flowers does Weasel like?"

_That's an odd question._ The randomness of the question woke her up a bit. "Huh? Why do you care what kind of flowers he likes?"

Malfoy smirked. _Uh oh. He's up to something._ "I'll tell you after. What is it?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I don't think he even has one. He labels flowers under the category of 'girly things I'll never like', so I'd have to say none. Why?"

Malfoy's eyes lazily raked her chest. She looked down and blushed. She had completely forgotten that she was naked from the waist up. _Thank Merlin I'm still at least wearing my skirt and underwear, even if the latter is soaking wet._

With as much dignity as could gather, she got off of Malfoy's lap and walked over to retrieve her clothes from the pile they had left from. "Malfoy, have you seen my bra? It's not over here."

"Yes."

She turned to him, holding her clothes over her chest, but she couldn't see it. He smirked at her. She frowned impatiently. "Well, where is it?"

She watched Malfoy lean over the side of the mattress and scoop up a shoulder strap with a finger. He dangled it in the air. "Right here."

She glared at him and stalked over in front of him. She tried to snatch it from his grip, but his hand moved. "Now why would you need your clothes, Granger? I'm not done with you yet."

She raised her eyebrow. "Well, you started talking about Ron, so I assumed that meant you _were_ done with me."

He chuckled and tossed her bra far behind him.

"Hey!" she complained, watching her bra fall into a shadowy corner.

Malfoy got on his knees and slid his hands up along her bare legs, under her skirt. "I promised you sex, didn't I?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, yes, but, like I said, you started talking about Ron, so I guessed that you meant sometime _later_, or, well, something. Besides, I can let you off the hook just this once." She tried to keep her voice steady but it cracked slightly when one of his thumbs started rubbing her inner thigh. She shivered.

"Granger," he tutted. "I don't do charity. I'm getting something out of this, too, you know." When both hands reached her hips under her skirt, he caressed the bare skin for a few moments before sliding her underwear down. He grinned at her shaken expression. "Get down here, before you fall and hurt yourself."

Hermione wet her lips and stepped out of her underwear on the floor. She kneeled down onto the mattress, clutching her other clothes tighter to her chest. She gnawed on her lip. "You never answered my question."

Malfoy leaned over, gently tugged her clothes from her grip, and threw them over his shoulder. She watched them go just like her bra. "Oh? What was the question again?" he replied absentmindedly. He stood up and shed his shirt and boxers before kneeling back down onto the mattress.

She stared at his naked body while he gently pushed her down onto her back and immediately set to work undoing her skirt, which caused her to stutter when she spoke. "You asked, um, what-t kind of flowers Ron liked. A-and...um, I asked you, why did you want t-to know?" He nudged her hips up and slid the skirt down and off her legs. She was completely naked and nervous, yet he looked the same as if he were wearing all his clothes, completely confident. She licked her lips and then bit her bottom one.

Malfoy crawled up her naked form, feasting with his eyes as he moved. She closed her eyes and sighed as the heat from his body warmed her. She suddenly remembered that she had never shut the window from earlier, which would explain why it was slightly drafty and cold, and thus his body heat was so welcome. He nudged her legs open wide enough for him to lay down on top of her between them. Her mouth opened soundlessly in awe of the sensations. She fought the urge to wrap her legs around his waist and rub her body against his. His skin was soft, but the muscles underneath were solid, which gave her something to grind against. Her whole lower half tingled in anticipation, but something in the back of her mind nagged at her. They had been having a conversation about something important...

He grinned sinfully and kissed her. "Ready?" he murmured against her lips.

With every stroke of his tongue he fogged up her brain, obscuring everything but her body's demand for his touch, which only increased. _Merlin, Ron never affected me like this... Yes, they had been talking about something dealing with Ron and a question...a different one. _She couldn't think when he was assaulting her mouth like it was the fabled Fountain of Youth. She broke the kiss and tried to focus. What was the question she wanted him to answer? She had once read that the Fountain of Youth had been believed to be located in what was now the American state of Florida, which was Spanish for "Flowered Place". She had no doubt that if Malfoy thought the Fountain of Youth existed, he'd plunder it just as avidly as he had plundered her mouth. He was that vain. _Flowers! It was about him getting Ron flowers!_ She blinked and shook her head to clear it.

"Wait, you're avoiding the question again!" she scolded him. She sat up a little, not caring that she was practically shoving her breasts in his face, not that he seemed to mind one jot. "What's the answer?"

Malfoy took a breast in his mouth. Hermione moaned at the contact, but didn't want to give up just yet.

"M-Malfoy, just answer the question!" she panted.

Instead, he added his hands to the mix, sliding them lightly over her naked skin, rubbing here and there. _He's trying to distract me on purpose! He doesn't want me to know! Bloody lying git! _While it would have been so incredibly easy to let Malfoy bend her to his will, she detested the idea that he could get away with something by using his body as a distraction. That gave her enough strength to fully sit up and shove his hands off her where she could reach. She glared at him and pushed his shoulders so that his mouth came off her breast. Then she crossed her arms across her chest as meager protection.

"Malfoy, I'm not going to let this happen until you tell me what you're hiding."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'll tell you after."

Her glare narrowed. "No, you won't. That's what you said before and I'm _still_ trying to drag it out of you."

"Fine. It's nothing terrible, I promise. I was just going to send him some flowers, that's all."

She frowned. "Right. And why would you want to send him flowers?"

He grinned wickedly. "Oh, you know. To thank him."

"...For?"

"For driving his girlfriend straight into my bed. Or, I suppose, arms might be more appropriate since we're nowhere near my bed. Or perhaps just straight into _a _bed."

She blinked. _And that would be the 'revealing this at an inopportune time' part. _She had never felt so stupid before in her entire life. She had known from the start that doing this would be trouble, but she had still managed to deceive herself into thinking it wouldn't be so bad. If Ron ever found out, he would go berserk, which was exactly what Malfoy wanted, and was going to do. She had to stop the damage now, before it got any worse.

She took a deep, rage-focusing breath, opened her eyes, and slapped Malfoy with all her might. She shoved him off her and scrambled up. She picked up her wand, yelled "_Accio clothes!"_ and started getting dressed.

Malfoy stood up, holding his hand to his cheek, and glared at her. "I thought you _wanted_ revenge."

She finished zipping up her skirt and pulled her shirt over her head. She glared right back. "Not _that _kind of revenge, you idiot! Telling him defeats the whole purpose of doing this in the first place! It was _supposed _to be a secret that I kept with me - _that not another soul aside from us two knows about _- so I can say that I've at least had fun in my life. I'm not _trying_ to lose my two best friends in the entire world!"

Malfoy laughed derisively, dressing himself. She clearly wasn't going to go any further with him. "And so you chose _me_ of all people, to have sex with? Oh, yes, Granger. _That's_ intelligent."

Hermione held back the tears and lamented that they were right back where they started. She was pouring her heart out and he just didn't care, like always. _Stupid, stupid Hermione!_ "I _didn't_ choose you out of all the others! _If_ you remember correctly, I was depressed and you offered! There's a difference!" she yelled. "Merlin, I knew this was a bad idea," she sighed, shaking her head. She turned to head for the door.

"Yes, I _do _remember! The only reason you accepted my offer in the first place was because _no other bloke would have you_!" he yelled back viciously.

She froze with her hand on the door handle and held back a sob with her other hand. She slowly turned around to face him and gave him a death glare.

"Fuck you, Draco Malfoy," she said with barely controlled rage. The next moment, she was out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

***/***

Draco watched her leave and wished every vile curse he could think of on Hermione Granger, which were quite a few. That girl always managed to get under his skin, even when he thought he was in control. At the time, he had recognized it was a crazy idea to even attempt to sleep with her, but he just couldn't bear the thought of a sobbing, broken Hermione Granger. It went against the code of the universe. Granger was tough and angry; anything else was just _wrong_. Honestly, she ought to be thanking him. He had managed to bring her back to her feisty old self in no time, and simultaneously gave her her first _real _orgasm. Bloody brilliant is what he was. He should win some kind of award for making the prissy chit let loose like that.

He sighed. Unfortunately, despite how it ended, he was still riled up. _Bloody Granger. She didn't even have the courtesy to return the favor,_ he huffed silently. _So ungrateful. _

He changed the mattress back to his vest and cleared all the spells he had placed on the door. _Maybe that Greengrass girl will be up for a go tonight. She hadn't been that bad._ He grinned at the thought of another chase and conquest. _Draco Malfoy is back on the prowl! _He chuckled to himself and exited the tower.

**A/N 2: **I edit the crap out of each chapter to avoid simple grammar/spelling mistakes, but I'm far from perfect, so feel free to let me know if I missed anything. Also, please review to let me know if this story is promising enough to deserve the hours that go into editing it. I know this one chapter isn't much to go on, but even telling me "I need more chapters to decide if I like this story or not!" is enough to keep me motivated. As mentioned at the beginning, this chappie is super angsty because it's mostly background info, but there will definitely be more humor in the next chapter!

Hope you're well!

-BDShadothe-


	2. Step 1: Long Term Presence

**Disclaimer:** See the Prologue.

**A/N:** Firstly, a huge thank you to every person who reviewed and/or put this story or me on alert! It's an amazing feeling when only one chapter evokes so much visible interest, especially since I was super nervous about putting up this story. I was absolutely worried that you all would hate it and emote throwing flaming tomatoes at me (though I like tomatoes). So thank you again for alleviating my biggest fear about this! I've been hemming and hawing about posting it for a while and finally decided to just do it, which I am now really glad I did.

Secondly, this is a super short chapter compared to the Prologue, but only because this is like the Prologue: Part Two. It's introducing you to present-day Hermione, and setting up the drama to come. Make sure you read the second author's note at the bottom!

Thirdly...**Review Responses:**

Kermit 304 - That's the big question, isn't it? Hermione is unique in Draco's world, and always has been, so he's never really known quite where to put her. His family tells him that her heritage means she's not worth his notice, but nobody can rightly deny her obvious magical talent, and he most certainly can't ignore the fact that she's Harry's best friend and top of the class. On the other hand, Hermione has known from day 1 exactly where Draco belongs in her world. He's a walking stereotype that she only acknowledges when he starts something. This is partly why I love writing Dramiones; both characters are so obviously proud to a fault that they'd rather hex each other than reshape their opinion of the other until they are forced to, which is fun to write. As for why Hermione puts up with Ron, well...the short answer is that what you read in the prologue is Hermione only focusing on the bad parts of her relationship with Ron, because she's upset. You're getting a very skewed look at their relationship through her anger, so rest assured that isn't even close to the whole story. Since you've brought it up, I might address her relationship with Ron in-depth a bit earlier than I had originally intended, depending on if I think it flows well in that chapter. Thank you for mentioning it!

Farella - Perfect? Uh oh. Am I already encouraging high expectations from you? Eek! What if I don't live up to them? I'll try my best not to disappoint! I'm not sure how I can be 'late' when I haven't even created an update schedule yet, but your excitement is making me excited, which makes me want to update sooner rather than later. I love you, too, for reviewing! =D

Sundance1989 - Thank you! I'm so glad you appreciated the flowers part. Writing Draco can be so easy sometimes because all I need to ask is, what would piss off Ron the most? That's what Draco would probably do. I see Ron as a semi-closet romantic, which Draco, the cunning Slytherin he is, would absolutely use against him in an extremely publicly humiliating way. In fact, in one of the rough drafts I wrote, I had Draco detailing how he'd put the message in a howler and owl a thank-you bouquet to Ron at dinner so that the entirety of Hogwarts would hear it, professors and all. I decided to change it later, thinking it would be a little too much. Would that have been too much?

xXxtellmewhyxXx - You're welcome! It's always nice to hear that from someone else, especially when I sometimes think I'm driving myself crazy over revision number seventeen for nothing because nobody's going to notice. Nothing turns me off to a story quite like clicking on it and seeing all the text in giant blocks, or the first paragraph riddled with spelling and grammatical errors. I'm sorry, but if you're old enough to be writing about mature themes, you should know the difference between the words their, they're, and there. And don't get me started on the stories that make me feel like I'm trying to decipher a text message. I'm always so sad when a summary intrigues me and then I can't bring myself to read the actual story because I just want to copy and paste it into MSWord so I can edit it until it's intelligible. So thank you for appreciating the English language. You had me at your correct usage of 'it's' and 'your' (=P). I'm so glad you like the story so far, and I hope you'll like what's coming even more!

EgyptianQueen - Wow. I admit I was a bit speechless while reading your review. I can't imagine how many stories you must have read by now, so I'm absolutely flattered that you like mine so much! I'm so glad you appreciated the angel/devil reference. As soon as I wrote it, I knew I had to keep it in because it so perfectly describes how Hermione views him. I think the really interesting part is that, while Draco appears to be Lucifer reincarnate to many people, he actually isn't. He really is a lot more like an angel than Hermione knows at that point; he's just not a stereotypical one. Or perhaps a better way to say it is that she views him as an absolute, or two-dimensional person (like how angels are always supposed to be good and devils always evil) but he's very much human with all sorts of grey shades she's never noticed. I love that image so much because it tells you just as much about Hermione's own prejudices as about Draco's general attitude. Sorry if the whole Ron and Lavender thing was confusing. I meant to show that Ron hasn't actually cheated on her as far as she knows, but after Draco's offer, she looks for an excuse to kiss him, so she convinces herself that Ron's cheating on her at that moment, which means it's alright if she does it, too. It's not very good logic, but her emotions are getting the best of her at that point. Also, this chapter is the most like the original story, but after that I diverge quite a bit. Just a heads up, I don't mention Hermione's parents because I didn't like that whole plotline. I can't ever imagine her parents to be so cruel, even though we hardly see them in the books, so maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part. In any case, in this story, her parents love her very much and she was not an accident or anything like that. Maybe I'll add in some scenes with her parents later on to flesh out the story more. Do you think that would be a good thing? Anywho, never ever apologize for writing long reviews! As you can see, I can hardly shut myself up, but I also love reading other people's thoughts on my writing. I'm always looking to improve and answer the questions that readers have, so the more feedback, the better!

~~~\~~~

Step 1: Long-Term Presence

_Once you have decided to capture a Malfoy's black and desiccated heart, and have gotten him to notice you short-term, you must find a way to into his long-term memory, which is a lot harder than you'd think. If you went with the Example A route in the Introduction, you will have to work hard to make him remember your name, and for more than just an easy lay, you tart. While being labeled as a good lay isn't a bad thing, the Malfoy will only think of you when it is convenient, which will make it that much harder to get close to his heart. If you are a meaningless shag, you'd have to do something bloody impressive to give yourself meaning as a future wife that he will actually like. (Unless, of course, you followed Example C, you gold-digging bint.) Therefore, I would suggest inserting yourself wherever he is. If he sees you everywhere, then he will think of you more, and remember you more easily, which is one way to earn a spot in his long-term memory. The good thing about this course is that he will already have positive thoughts about you, if at all. The bad thing is that those thoughts won't be useful if you can't get him, the self-centered bigot, to remember you. _

_If you followed Example B, you don't have much to worry about as far as him remembering you, although your personal safety might be in danger. Your next step will be trying to convert the negative feelings into positive ones, but in the meantime, Example A's course isn't a bad idea. The more he sees you and associates you with a strong emotion, the better. Amplifying that emotional connection will guarantee that he won't forget about you anytime soon. Again, the reason why he feels strongly about you can change, so long as he feels some strong emotion for you._

~~~\~~~

"...And these were the descendants of Adam: Adam begat Seth, and Seth begat Enosh, and Enosh begat Kenan..."

Hermione glanced up at her elderly mentor, who was sitting peacefully in her chair, eyes closed. She dared clear her throat just to see if her mentor would move. She didn't. Hermione lowered her voice, hoping it wouldn't echo as much in the large, open drawing room.

"And Kenan begat Mahalalel, and Mahalalel begat Jared, and Jared begat Enoch..."

She glanced up again. Her mentor was certainly breathing evenly. Was that a snore? Maybe she should finish the chapter just to make sure...

"And Enoch begat Methuselah, and Methuselah begat Lamech, and Lamech begat Noah, and Noah begat Shem, Ham, and Japheth."

She kept her eyes on her mentor while she silently shut the book. She set the book aside on the table and, just as silently, snuck her way to the door. She normally quite enjoyed reading to Professor Morgana. She used every moment she could to learn more about her new mentor, seeing as how they would be working together, hopefully, for a long time to come.

But today Hermione was eager to get back to her work. She just knew that she was close to a breakthrough. She was working on a potion recipe to help recover the memories of Obliviated victims, especially when the spell had been botched. Currently she was stuck on getting the right balance of potency and buffering of the ingredients. Maybe she could use more nettles for potency and then add in some ginger root as a buffer between that and the armadillo bile...

_**THUMP!**_

Hermione jumped at the sudden sound with her hand on the door knob. No one knew how to make more noise with a cane and a floor than Professor Morwena Morgana. She turned around and guiltily looked at her mentor.

"I am _not_ asleep!" Professor Morgana boomed, staring directly at her.

Hermione winced and smiled weakly. "Oh, sorry..."

Professor Morgana chuckled. "You're not the least bit sorry, girl. Get back over here."

Hermione bit her lip to suppress a groan and resumed her seat in front of the old woman. She truly liked Professor Morgana, though. She looked forward to the day when she could use age as an excuse to adopt Professor Morgana's signature brand of outspokenness. She just really, _really _wanted to get back to her potion...

"You're a tricky one, you are," Professor Morgana acknowledged.

Hermione's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"

"All those 'begats'. Hand chosen to put me to sleep," her mentor clarified.

Hermione blushed guiltily. "Well, I just figured you would want to get the boring parts out of the way first..." she tried to reason feebly.

"Nonsense. You skipped ahead so you could sneak out and get back to that potion of yours."

Hermione ducked her head in embarrassment.

Professor Morgana's mouth quirked up into an amused smile. "Don't be ashamed, girl. I'm actually impressed. I would have done the exact same thing at your age."

Hermione raised her head and gave her mentor a tentative smile. She picked up the Bible again and cleared her throat. "So, which part would you like me to read then?"

"None of it. Bloody boring, it is. Haven't we anything more exciting in the library?"

"I'm sure we do. I could check, if you like." _And stop in on my potion just to try an idea or two on the way..._

"Yes, do that. And don't you dare step into that laboratory tonight!" Hermione tried not to let her disappointment show. The woman seemed to read her mind. "I said the answer will come if you take your mind off of the whole thing, and I'm never wrong. So go. Oh, and do let Crooksy into the room. He's scratching at the door."

Hermione wrinkled her nose as she let the bright orange cat into the room. He strutted past her, bow-legged, a haughty look on his squashed face as he swayed his bottlebrush tail confidently. He collapsed onto his favorite spot on the plush rug in the front of the room. Since her arrival at Morgana Manor, Crookshanks had taken a complete turn and abandoned her for greener pastures - namely, Professor Morgana. With the amount of sweets that her mentor had stuffed down the cat's throat, Hermione was amazed that he could still walk, let alone lift himself up to scratch at the door.

"Crooksy," her mentor cooed. "Come to Mama."

Crookshanks lifted his head, tried to focus his slightly crossed eyes, decided it wasn't worth the effort, and dropped his head back down.

"I have a treat for you," Professor Morgana coaxed.

Perking up at the word 'treat', the cat yawned and hopped up.

"Stupid cat," Hermione muttered bitterly as Crookshanks strode past his former owner without so much as a glance.

"Such a sweet thing," her mentor cooed, rubbing Crookshanks' belly.

"That isn't a sweet cat; it's a poor excuse for a rug," Hermione huffed.

Professor Morgana raised an eyebrow. "I know you don't mean that, Miss Granger."

"Yes, I do," she replied defiantly.

"Nonsense," her mentor dismissed the comment with an imperial wave of her hand. "You love Crooksy."

"I lov_**ed **_Crooshanks," she corrected.

"Well, Crooksy loves you."

The cat lifted his head from his spot at his new owner's feet and Hermione swore he stuck his tongue out at her.

Hermione glared at him. "That cat is a menace. I'm going to the library."

"Good idea. Go find me a new book," her mentor agreed. Hermione headed for the door. "And nothing with 'begat'!" Professor Morgana called after her.

~~~\~~~

Hermione pouted the whole way to the library, which wasn't actually that far down the hall. She sighed happily when she opened the library doors and breathed in the familiar smell of old books. With a new smile on her face, she browsed the shelves, scanning her brain for some entertaining stories to pull from the shelves. She selected a few of Shakespeare's comedies and placed them on a nearby table. A slim volume of Romantic poetry and a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's tales were added to the pile, just for some variety. She gathered the books and walked past another shelf toward the doors when a flash of bright red caught her eye. She paused and inspected the offending book.

It was very small, and bound in the brightest red leather Hermione had ever seen. The strangest thing, though, was that it had been lying sideways on the shelf, while every other book in the room was standing upright. She grabbed the tiny book and returned to the table. She set the books back down and seated herself, eyes wide with curiosity.

She flipped over the book so she could see the front cover. Printed across the cover in an elegant gold font was the title and author:

_**How to Marry a Malfoy**_

_(Tips by someone who succeeded in ensnaring one of the slimy gits)_

_**By Morwena Morgana-Malfoy**_

Hermione gasped. _Morgana-Malfoy_? But...she was so sure that Professor Morgana was married to Titus _Morgana_, not Titus _Malfoy_. Unless...on second thought, she had seen pictures of the husband on her first day here. Titus possessed the trademark pale skin, platinum blond hair, and grey eyes of the Malfoy line. Professor Morgana had told her all about his esteemed position in the Wizengamot and his gift for foreign relations (which was why he wasn't around often), and they _were_ filthy rich. Oh Merlin, was she actually the protégé of Professor _Malfoy_? Hermione shuddered at the thought.

After what had happened (and almost happened) about eight months ago, on the night before Graduation, Hermione had never wanted to even _hear _the name Malfoy ever again. It filled her entire body with disgust and shame at her own weakness and stupidity. She had sworn to herself that she would _never _make the same mistake twice. But as hard as she tried to suppress them into oblivion, thoughts of that night still popped into her head from time to time, and every single time they did she cursed the day she had met Draco Malfoy.

It infuriated her to think that the Fates still didn't think Malfoy had tortured her enough. Just when she thought that she had gotten rid of him forever, they threw her for another loop. Hermione glared at the name on the cover and clutched the book until her knuckles turned white. Maybe Professor Morgana wouldn't notice if she just incinerated the book now. Why _anyone_ would want to marry one of those "slimy gits", indeed, she had no idea. In fact, burning this book would probably do the world some good.

_**THUMP!**_

"What is taking you so long, girl?" Professor Morgana entered the library and spotted Hermione sitting down with the book. "Oh, is that...?" Her mentor chuckled and walked over so she could sit down next to her. "My, my. It has been quite a while since I wrote that."

Hermione opened her mouth but had no idea what to say, so she closed it again. Finally she got the courage to ask, "You married a _Malfoy_? I thought your husband..."

Professor Morgana had a far-away look, the one Hermione recognized whenever her mentor talked about her husband.

"Yes, I did, girl. But you see, Titus' older brother Abraxus nearly disowned him when he married me. Fortunately for us, Abraxus died of Dragon Pox before he got around to making it official, though I suspect he didn't want to entirely sever their connection because Titus has always been his own social influence. Even so, Titus knows how to make his own fortune. He has the Malfoy genes, after all, and the Morgana family money. As a sign of defiance against his controlling brother, Titus took my maiden name, Morgana, when we married. Truth be told, Titus was happy to be rid of the name of Malfoy. Too many annoying, blood-obsessed relatives. When he shed the name, the others shed him, and he was all the happier for it. We've lived in relative peace because of it. Of course, that's mostly because the name Morgana demands just as much respect, so they can't do much without damaging their own reputation. But I'm sure you know how it is. You went to school with my great nephew, after all. What was his name, again? Devon? Daniel?"

"Draco..." Hermione whispered, inwardly shuddering at all the memories his name evoked. She shook her head to clear it. "But _why_? Why did you even _want_ to marry one?" she asked desperately.

"Yes, Draco. That's the one." Professor Morgana laughed, casting Hermione a sideways glance. "You do have _eyes_, don't you, girl? You can't deny the Malfoy men are the most attractive specimens on the planet. The lean, muscled arms, the broad shoulders, the silver eyes...Well, they would be if you could cut out their tongues, but you can't have everything in a man, can you? Then again, they use that tongue for more than just talking, don't they? _Magnificent_ lovers, they are. You wouldn't do badly at all to snag one, girl."

Hermione didn't have to find a mirror to know her whole body was flushed red. The absurdity of having this conversation with Draco Malfoy's great aunt made her question whether this was all just one terrible nightmare. She cleared her throat. Yes, she knew _exactly _how attractive and skilled Draco was...to an extent. "Yes, well-"

"See? You agree with me. I snagged the better of the two, if you ask me. Abraxus always struck me as far more selfish, which I'm sure translated into the bedroom. Of course, the trade-off is that Titus is hardly around these days because of work. A pity, that. But again, you can't have everything." Professor Morgana sighed. "You should read the book, girl. I was young and a little bitter at the time I wrote it, and it's mostly the story of me and Titus, with a lot of rambling thrown in, but there's good advice in there."

Hermione made a noise somewhere between a choked laugh and an indignant scoff at the mere thought of pursuing Malfoy. "Um, no thank you, Professor. I'd really rather not."

Her mentor gave her a inquisitive look. "Why not, girl? It's short, and I know you read quickly. It won't even take you an hour."

Hermione gulped and her hands fidgeted in her lap. "Yes, well, the thing is, I don't ever intend on marrying a Malfoy, so the content is absolutely of no use to me."

Professor Morgana scoffed. "I don't actually expect you will use it to marry one, girl. It will give you a better idea of what you'll have to deal with for the next couple months. And you can see what I was like when I was young, which you might want to copy, seeing as how you want to follow in my footsteps."

Hermione coughed. "I want to be a _researcher_ like you, Professor."

Her mentor nodded. "Precisely."

Hermione mentally rolled her eyes. Talking to the old woman about anything other than the intricacies of potion-making and theories was like riding a rollercoaster in complete darkness. You never knew which direction she'd go next. She frowned as she remembered something her mentor had just said.

"What did you mean by 'what you'll have to deal with for the next couple months'?"

"Oh, haven't I told you already? My great-nephew Draco will be staying with us for a couple months to help me with a private matter. That doesn't bother you, does it?"

Hermione nearly had a heart attack. _A couple_ _MONTHS?_ _YES, I DO have a problem with that!_ she screeched mentally. Before she could say anything, her mentor continued.

"See? I knew you wouldn't mind. Now come along. Read me something by that Shakingspoke person. Name starts with a W." Professor Morgana made her way out of the library.

Hermione followed. "William Shakespeare?" she supplied weakly.

"That's the one. And don't forget that book, girl. Nice bedtime reading. Could teach you a few tricks, that."

Hermione cried on the inside, and vehemently cursed the day she had met Draco Malfoy.

**A/N 2: **A super-duper special thanks goes out to **Scarletttabby**, the first reviewer of this story! I have a special surprise for you! Either review or PM me with any first name, last name, and occupation (preferably ones that don't automatically go together; it'll be more fun that way). Your surprise will be in the next chapter! You know, what? Let's make it a recurring thing. The first reviewer of _this_ chapter (that isn't already getting a surprise) should give me an animal, a color, and a habitat for inspiration and I'll come up with something for you, too.

Stay well!

-BDShadothe-


	3. Step 2: Deny, Deny, Deny

**A/N: **Hello all! I had noticed that a few reviews of the prologue particularly mentioned wanting to know more about Ron and Hermione's relationship, so I added a flashback in this chapter to help give you Ron's side of the story. It's in all italics, so I hope you'll recognize it when you see it. Also, I'm sure you've been eager to see Hermione's first interaction with Draco since Graduation Eve, so without further ado, I give you...

~~~\~~~

Step 2: Deny, Deny, Deny

_Once you have a history with the Malfoy, and have secured a place in the long-term Important Person category, the hunt can begin. Malfoy men are hunters by nature, and proud ones at that. Now that you are a fixture in his world, his pride will drive him to be a fixture in yours. Deny any and all connections you have with him. Normal men who want to date you will ask you out on a date. Malfoy men will deny their attraction/affection for you until it drives them to the edge of insanity, the oblivious prats. You need to help push him to that edge if you ever want the relationship to go anywhere meaningful. That is why you play the part of the prey. Deny everything, and he will do everything in his power to prove to you that you feel the exact same way as he does. Because, naturally, if a Malfoy feels anything for you, then obviously you must feel the same, because the world would end if a Malfoy harbored unrequited feelings. While you are the prey, do not make yourself scarce yet. At this point you need to do what you can to secure that he will do whatever it takes to find you when you do make yourself scarce. But that is later. Right now, focus on making him want you to acknowledge his presence in your life. _

_Note: If the Malfoy does not actually have any interest in you, this will push him farther away and he will completely ignore you. This is why it is imperative that you only do this once you have secured his interest in you. If he is not interested in you it is either because you moved too fast or he simply does not deem you worthy of the effort involved, you clingy tart. _

_~~~\~~~_

Hermione woke up in a foul mood the next morning. Professor Morgana had kindly notified her the previous night, after Hermione had to ask, that her great-nephew would be arriving the following day, which was today. She had spent all night dreaming of the night before Graduation. Her mind replayed what happened and came up with a version of what _could _have happened if she hadn't left when she did. Oh, yes, Hermione's mood was _foul_.

Not only did she despise the fact that the dream itself was absolutely pleasant, but it had been so vivid that she just knew the second she saw Malfoy's face again, it would all come flooding back. She was going to flush as red as a tomato and he would notice. And he'd laugh at her. And it would be just like school, all over again, for a whole two months, except now he'd torment her in her sleep, too. Even her subconscious was conspiring against her.

She supposed she ought to be thankful that she had managed to avoid him for a whole eight months, even while working for six of those months with his godfather, Severus Snape. She was fortunate that Snape and his godson only kept in touch through letters about three times a year, but unfortunately she and Snape had never really managed to completely forgive each other for everything they knew about the other. Snape had made her best friend's life harder than it needed to be while he was trying to save the world, and Hermione had broken more rules than most Hogwarts students in their entire lifetimes and rarely got punished for it. She still considered him a ruthless, selfish git, and he still considered her a pampered, annoying, know-it-all. Despite their considerable will to remain professional (for they grudgingly admired the other's abilities), they hadn't been able to suppress their mutual loathing forever, so they had decided to call it quits. As proof of how unfortunate it was, Snape had referred her to Professor Morgana, and Hermione had gratefully accepted the help. She grew to greatly respect her new mentor, too, and without any bad memories. It had been a win-win situation for both of them, since Hermione had promised to give due credit to Snape when she published her finished recipe.

Hermione debated whether she should venture down into the dining room for breakfast. It was nine in the morning. Had Malfoy already arrived? Maybe she didn't have to see him at all? Her stomach rumbled, so she decided that she could be stealthy about it, just in case.

When she was fully dressed and freshened up, she cautiously opened her bedroom door, peeking both ways down the long hallway. It was silent, as always in the mornings, so she crept down the hallway, ears straining for any tell-tale sound of his presence or imminent arrival.

She slowly tip-toed down the main staircase leading down to the main floor. As her foot stepped down onto the main floor, she looked both ways and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw nothing peculiar. She walked normally all the way to the dining room. The dining room doors were open, per usual, but she stopped dead anyway.

To the left, Professor Morgana was sitting at the head of the table, and to _her_ left sat Draco Malfoy. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as the memories and dreams flooded her mental vision, even more intensely than she had guessed. She was going to start hyperventilating any second now, so she did what any sane girl would do.

She ran.

Hermione dashed back down the hall, whipped around the corner, back up the stairs to the second floor, down to her room, and burst open the door, but tried to close it as quietly as she could. Her heart was racing now, and she knew it wasn't just from the physical exertion.

There was sudden knock on her door, and Hermione let out a small yelp in fear. She stared at the door in terror. Had Malfoy seen and followed her? Or worse, was it Professor Morgana?

"Miss Hermione!" a small voice squeaked through the door. Hermione let go of her breath and clutched her chest in relief. It was only one of the house elves. She took a deep, calming breath and opened the door.

She smiled as she recognized the elf. "Yes, Dopey?"

Dopey grinned toothily back at her. "Mistress requesteds your presence in the dining room when you is awakes."

Hermione's face fell and she internally started panicking again. There was no way she could go down and face him. Enough time hadn't passed yet. She forced a smile back onto her face.

"Dopey, could you please inform Mistress Morwena that I'm feeling quite ill this morning? I wouldn't want to infect our guest with whatever I have so I will take my breakfast in my room and spend the day in the laboratory."

Dopey frowned at the news. "Dopey hopes you feels better Miss Hermione! Dopey will delivers your message rights aways!"

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Dopey."

Dopey grinned back and disapparated, so Hermione closed the door. She shuffled over and fell face first on her bed. _This is going to be so much harder than I thought. I can't pretend I'm sick for two whole months!_

Hermione didn't bother to fight the memories anymore. They were going to overwhelm her one way or the other, so her best hope was to select them one at a time, and stuff them back into the locked cage they belonged in.

The first memory that overpowered the others was of Malfoy using his body to trap her against the wall of the Astronomy Tower that night. She instantly felt warm, remembering the heat of their fronts pressed together and his breath on her neck. She shivered.

The next was of her blinking and suddenly he was before her, naked as a pre-fig leaf marble statue. His obvious erection stood out clearly because she hadn't been able to look away for several moments. She hadn't been able to stop herself from comparing him to Ron.

Ron. She groaned as a fresh wave of guilt washed over her. He still didn't know what had happened that night, thank Merlin. For some reason, Malfoy had kept his irritating gob shut. As far as she knew, he hadn't told a soul, which was rather uncharacteristic of him, unless he had more to gain from keeping it quiet.

Then again, it might not have mattered if he hadn't. They had still broken up, anyway.

~~~\~~~

_"Hermione!" Ron said, strangely surprised. They had planned to meet in his bedroom that night, since Harry and Ginny had planned to spend the night at Grimmauld Place. Hardly anyone stayed at the Burrow these days, as they were all grown up and busy with their own lives. She was a little early, sure, but he looked as scared as if she had announced she was going to buy him a pet Acromantula. _

_"Ron?" she asked, hardly needing to say anything else. Her inquisitive expression said it all._

_He fumbled, putting away his broom servicing kit before rubbing his palms against his trousers. She shut the door and sat down on the now-cleared spot on his bed. He was as jumpy and nervous as she had ever seen him. It made her frown._

_He refused to look at her, and she knew this was it. They were calling it quits after a whole month of awkward fumblings and embarrassed silences. They had snogged a few times, and only tried to go further once before he pulled back with a guilty look on his face. At the time, she had assumed it was because she had told him she wasn't in the mood for sex (though he didn't know it was because of the near-disaster with Malfoy), but now she wasn't so sure._

_"Talk to me, Ron," she said softly, watching him stare at the floor._

_"I'm sorry, 'Mione!" he blurted out, clutching the cloth of his trousers in his fists. He breathed deeply. "I...I can't do it anymore. I can't pretend."_

_Hermione felt the words pierce her heart, but it didn't hurt nearly as badly as knowing she didn't deserve any sort of apology. _He_ was the one who deserved a gigantic apology. _

_He swallowed loudly. "I...snogged Lavender. That night of the party, the night before Graduation. I shouldn't have. You were right. I should have left with you, or gone to bed, but I couldn't help it. It was so nice to be...free, you know? No...Voldemort, no tests, no stress, just for a bit. We had our whole lives planned out, so what could one night of fun do? I've tried to ignore it, 'cause I've been too scared to tell you. You're going to yell and cry and, bloody hell, hate me. I know you've always been jealous of her and I'm so sorry, 'Mione. She was there and nearly naked, and she was so out of it she just fell on top of me and started snogging me, and it felt so good...it felt..." He paused, searching for the right word._

_"Not like us," she supplied sadly._

_He nodded. "Not like us."_

_She licked her lips and swallowed nervously. That was exactly how she had felt with Malfoy. It had been all heat, and passion, and wanting to feel skin on skin...nothing like the safe contentment she had felt with Ron. She felt tears of relief and guilt build up in her eyes._

_She took a shaky breath and stared at the floor, too. "If we're honest, this was a long time coming," she commented._

_"I'm sorry I didn't try harder with you," he confessed, "but I just...Merlin, 'Mione. You just don't give me anything. I still can't figure out what you're thinking when I kiss you. I can't tell if you're thinking about how to kiss me back, or the next book you'll be reading when I leave. You're more passionate about Spew than you ever were with me. I feel like you just kiss me because I want you to, not because _you_ want to."_

_That stung enough to make her wince. The worst part was the truth of it. Ron had never incited passion in her unless it was yelling at him for being dense. The wave of guilt paralyzed her voice, making her unable to correct him even about S.P.E.W._

_"With Lavender...even pissed out of my mind, I could tell. She wanted me like you never did. It's no excuse, I know, but I just can't go back and pretend it's the same anymore. It won't ever be the same."_

_Hermione nearly cried at that. No, it wouldn't ever be the same. All because of stupid Malfoy and his stupid, soft lips and that silver, lying, forked tongue of his that had slithered its way into her brain and dug in like a second home. Before kissing him, she hadn't known for sure that there was no chemistry with Ron. But after kissing Malfoy like he was her only supply of oxygen, she couldn't go back and pretend she didn't know, either._

_A full minute stretched out. "Please say something, 'Mione. Yell at me or lecture me. Do something," Ron pleaded, finally looking at her._

_"I'm sorry, Ron," she managed, taking another deep and shaky breath. "I don't know what else to say." _

_She couldn't yell at him if her life depended on it. The guilt of letting Malfoy touch her so intimately, of giving him more of her passion than she had ever given Ron...it was so, _so_ wrong and the guilt drowned her. She contemplated coming clean, too, but Ron wasn't level-headed like she was. Even now, just the word 'Malfoy' would send him into a rage that wouldn't end well for anybody. She knew him too well. She would rather suffer in silence than send Ron off to track Malfoy down and pick a fight with him. Maybe one day she could tell him, in five or ten years, but now was far too soon, the wounds of their failure too fresh. _

_They spent the following day grieving for their dead and battered romantic relationship, and the day after that, they agreed to try to get back to where they were, platonic friends._

~~~\~~~

Hermione hadn't moved from her spot on the bed, her panic turning the growling of her stomach into a rather strong nausea. She seriously considered just climbing back under the covers and hiding until the afternoon. Surely Malfoy would be in some other room with his aunt, so she could sneak around unimpeded? Her thoughts were disturbed by another knock. Assuming it was Dopey again, asking what she wanted for breakfast, she skipped right to the part where she opened the door.

For the first time in eight months she was face to face with Draco Malfoy. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. _Definitely too soon. _He looked as sexy and cold as ever, and her mind immediately replayed that night, particularly the moments when he had stripped himself naked and crawled over to her, which made her blush. Her hand clutched the door tighter as she mentally shoved the thoughts back to the cage they had burst out of.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You don't look sick to me," he commented bluntly, leaning sideways against the doorframe with his hands casually resting in his trouser pockets.

She glared at him, arms crossed over her chest protectively. "Come closer so I can spit on you. Wait a few days for the infection to spread and then tell me I'm not sick."

He smirked. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? I knew you couldn't get enough of me."

"What do you _want_, Malfoy? I have better things to do than talk to you - like vomit," she replied harshly.

He rolled his eyes. "My lovely aunt sent me to check on you to see if you were really sick."

"Yes, I'm really sick. Now go away," she said shortly, starting to close the door in his face.

Malfoy thrust out a hand, stopping the door, and then pushing it back open. "Why bother lying, Granger? You clearly aren't."

Hermione sighed heavily. "Fine. You caught me. I lied so I didn't have to stare at your ugly mug and be nauseated all throughout breakfast. But, apparently, I have to suffer your presence anyway."

Malfoy grinned wickedly. "I knew it. You didn't want to risk being in the same room with me, lest you finish what we started the night before Graduation."

She inhaled sharply and sent him a death glare. "Don't you _dare_ mention that night aloud," she growled. "As far as _anyone_ is concerned it _never_ happened. And just in case you get any stupid ideas, I can assure you personally that it will _never_ happen again. So you best label it as a bizarre dream and forget about it, Malfoy. _I_ already have."

He leaned forward and laughed as she recoiled backward. "Sure, Granger. Keep telling yourself that. Do you even _have_ a new boyfriend?"

Ah. So _The Daily Prophet_, the magical tabloid she refused to read out of sheer principle, continued to keep tabs on their romantic lives, then. She hadn't dated anyone since she and Ron had broken up a month after Graduation, instead throwing herself into her potions research. They hadn't told anyone except their closest friends about the breakup, so naturally Malfoy found out through a _Prophet_ article.

She eyed him suspiciously. "What concern is that of _yours_?"

He grinned seductively. "Face it, Granger. You can't bear the thought of another man touching you after me. They just can't compete with the pleasure I gave you."

Through sheer will alone Hermione stopped her body from reacting the way he wanted it to. She glared. "Or maybe I just got sick of men in general, and decided to stop dating because they're all selfish _pricks_. My life does _not_ revolve around you, Malfoy. If I had my way, which the universe apparently loves to ignore, I would never see you or hear about you _ever_ again. So, _terribly_ sorry to burst your bubble, but I _loathe _you to the point where I'm just going to start pretending you don't exist anymore. Good_bye_, Malfoy." She slammed the door in his face and erected as many locking and warding charms on the door as she could recall.

~~~\~~~

For the rest of the week, Hermione avoided staying in the same room as Malfoy at all times. She practically lived in the laboratory, and fortunately for her, Professor Morgana didn't mind her absence because she and Malfoy were busy with the "private business" he was helping her with. Hermione thanked Merlin for small miracles. Malfoy was going to hang that night over her head until one of them _died, _so there was no way she could go back to being civil with him. But she couldn't be proper enemies with him, either, because his mere presence reminded her of that night, and just thinking about the way he had made her feel sent a flare of lust throughout her entire body. She just couldn't tolerate his presence anymore, so avoiding him was the only option.

The following Monday, Professor Morgana informed Hermione that she would be going out for the day and it was up to her to entertain her great-nephew. _Not_ _bloody likely_, Hermione responded mentally, even while nodding and smiling.

And then the Fates threw her for another loop. "And just to make sure you don't go running yourself ragged on that potion, I've warded the laboratory door. You've been in there all week, girl, and you haven't made any progress. I'm telling you to stop thinking about it so much. The answer will come when you least expect it."

Hermione mentally glared at the meddling woman's back as it retreated down the stairs. Her mentor sounded more like her babysitter. _Now_ what was she going to do? _The library's always a good place to start._ But that made her think of the book her mentor had written. Professor Morgana had apparently noticed Hermione had not taken the book with her, so she had sent a house elf to place it on her bed. Hermione had immediately shoved it in some drawer somewhere that she never used, hoping to forget about it. Of course, she didn't forget about it. Just like she couldn't forget about Malfoy either.

_Speak of the devil_. Just as she approached the top of the main staircase, she noticed Malfoy approaching from the other end of the hallway, apparently also planning to go downstairs. She huffed and faced forward, proceeding as if she hadn't noticed him.

Suddenly they were in the middle of the staircase, which appeared to stretch for kilometers both ways.

She heard Malfoy sigh next to her. "Bloody fantastic," he muttered.

She glared at him. "What did you _do_, Malfoy?" she accused.

He rolled his eyes at her. "_I _didn't do anything. My lovely aunt's house has a sick sense of humor. It senses we dislike each other, so it's forcing us to talk or else we'll never get off the staircase. The same thing happened last summer when she and I had a disagreement."

Apparently he was right. It already seemed shorter than when they had been silent, but it was still too far away. She huffed. Even the bloody _house_ was against her.

"Fine, so let's talk."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "About?"

She rolled her eyes at him. Couldn't he do _anything_ for himself? He couldn't even come up with a conversation topic? Honestly!

"I don't know... food. What sorts of food do you like?"

"Food, Granger?" he laughed at her.

"Oh, do you have a _better_ topic?" she fumed. "At least I'm _trying_ to get off this bloody staircase that hates me. If you just sit there and scoff at everything I say, we're not going to get anywhere, remember?"

Suddenly he seemed a lot closer than he had been a second before, and she realized the staircase decided to shrink to one-third its original width.

"See?" She pointed at the change in width. "You're not helping! So just answer the bloody question!" she growled at him.

"Language, Granger," he tutted.

"Malfoy!" she reprimanded, frustrated.

"Sure, like that. Except a little more moan, and drawn out, like you're enjoying it."

Hermione blinked. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" She stepped back to put more room between them, but the staircase moved him right back in front of her, closer than before.

He smirked. "That's my favorite food...for thought."

Hermione frowned. "How did you jump from food to moan-" She abruptly stopped herself. "You know what? I don't want to know." She shook her head and walked down more stairs, not caring that she wasn't getting any closer to the end. She just needed space to breathe, away from him_._

"Alright, new topic." he volunteered, walking behind her. "How are you going to entertain me today?"

"I'm not," she responded. "You're a big boy. I'm sure you can find something to do." _Thank Merlin, it's almost short enough to reach_.

"Like you?"

In order to keep herself from turning around and slapping him for the third time in her life, she kept walking and took deep breaths to calm her rage. _Almost there. It'll be okay._

"No," she replied shortly.

And then they went silent, so the staircase lengthened again. Hermione let loose a string of curses that surprised even herself.

She whipped around. "Malfoy, would it honestly _kill_ you to stop being such a bloody prick for _five minutes_? It's all I ask! I just want to get off this bloody staircase and get away from you, but you're making it absolutely _impossible_!" She stomped her foot for good measure.

It infuriated her even more that he just looked amused. "Granger, you need to stop taking things so seriously. I only do it because it annoys you, you know."

"Well, _stop_!" she whined petulantly. She threw up her hands and sat down on the step, burying her face in her arms. She was exhausted. Only Malfoy could get under her skin so deep she would flay herself alive just to be rid of him. If it had been anyone else, she would have ignored the comments and just rambled on about something. But it was _Malfoy_. He had the power to annoy her like no one else. For the life of her she _couldn't_ just ignore his comments because she _knew_ he'd juststand there and smirk at her, thinking he was right. So really, it all had to do with pride. Her head snapped up at the realization. She was too proud to let him think he had won. _That's _why she couldn't let it be.

She suddenly noticed Malfoy sitting right next to her. She glared at him. "This _is_ all your fault, you know," she accused. As soon as she said it, the stairs started shaking, knocking the two of them into each other. Hermione yelped and held onto the railing to prevent her body from being thrown into Malfoy, but it was unnecessarily slippery.

"Make it _stop_!" she yelled at him.

He laughed, clutching his own side of the railing. "_You _make it stop! You're the one that lied!"

Her hands finally slipped completely off, so the next tremor threw her entire body into Malfoy, who caught her waist just in time so they didn't go rolling down the never-ending stairs. She clutched his shoulders.

"Okay! Okay! I lied! It's not just his fault!" she yelled to the stairs. The tremors lessened in intensity, but still threatened to dislodge them. She glared at Malfoy for giving her bad advice.

He chuckled. "You have to apologize to _me_, Granger," he whispered into her ear.

Her eyes involuntarily closed as her entire body shivered at the near contact. She opened them and glared at him for a whole other reason. "I'm sorry," she said loudly.

The tremors got worse than before and she screamed, clutching him tighter in fear. "It didn't work!"

He growled, frustrated. "You have to _mean it_, Granger! Now hurry up before it kills us both!"

She bent her head down onto his shoulder, shut her eyes, and hung on to him tightly. "Okay! Alright! I'm sorry, Draco, I was wrong! Please! I don't want to die! I apologize!" she rambled, yelling.

Finally the staircase stilled. When Hermione opened her eyes, she and Malfoy were sitting on the floor at the base of the staircase, still clinging to each other. They both looked at their intertwined bodies and then up at each other. The next moment they scrambled apart and stood up, dusting themselves off.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Okay, so new rule: We never use that staircase at the same time ever again. Agreed?"

"Agreed," he drawled.

They stood for another moment before Hermione nodded and then started walking away. Out of habit, she made her way toward the dungeons. She didn't notice he was walking with her until he spoke.

"Where are you going?" he asked curiously.

She gave him an annoyed look. "To the laboratory. Where else?"

"My lovely aunt locked that up, remember?" he reminded her with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione stopped and frowned. "Oh, right." She gnawed on her lip. _Right. The library. That's where I was heading._ She turned around and started walking the other way. Malfoy followed, but he kept quiet for the first ten seconds, so she didn't say anything either.

"So," he eventually started, "where are we going now?"

She threw him a glare. "_I_ am going to the library. _You_ are going somewhere else."

He looked surprised. "Oh? Where?"

"Somewhere far away from me," she ground out. Predictably, when she glanced at him again, his trademark smirk was plastered across his face. _Bloody annoying git. Only he can make me curse so much._

"I've been thinking," he started again.

"I bet _that_ hurt," she muttered.

He shot her a glare, which she returned. Instantly he was smirking again. "We should have sex."

Hermione halted at the sudden reminder of their past. She expected her anger to flare up like it always did, but this time she was just tired of getting angry at him.

"I disagree," she replied, sighing. _Merlin. Is this how he felt when Pansy Parkinson hung all over him all the time? It's bloody irritating. No wonder he always scowled at her._

Malfoy frowned. "What, no comeback? No glare? Are you well?" He held a hand up to her forehead and she smacked it away. He grinned in satisfaction. "Reckon so."

Hermione closed her eyes, taking deep, cleansing breaths. "Okay, Malfoy. Name your price. What do I have to do to get rid of you?"

He smirked. "I've already told you."

She glared. "I am _not_ having sex with you."

He shrugged. "Then you're not getting rid of me."

She let out a frustrated growl. "_Why_, Malfoy? Why can't you just leave me alone? I didn't _do _anything to deserve this kind of torment! You're bloody everywhere! I had eight semi-blissful Malfoy-free months and now it feels like I'll _never_ be rid of you! And it's only been one _week_! How in Merlin's name do you expect me to deal with you for seven more weeks without resorting to homicide?"

His smirk was back. "You know the answer, Granger."

Her glare was, too. "No, I don't. I know I want to kill you, but that's it. It would be nice to do it slowly and painfully, but that would give you time to escape, so I promise I'll make it quick and painless just to make sure you're _dead_."

He mock-clutched his heart. "Granger, you _wound_ me!"

"Good. I hope it gets infected and festers into a rot that can't be stopped until you stop breathing," she snapped viciously.

He laughed. "Ouch! How harsh!"

She sighed exasperatedly. "Why do you find my homicidal tendencies toward you _funny_?"

"Because you don't mean them, obviously," he replied haughtily.

She raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed against her chest defiantly. "And if I do?"

He shook his head, amused. "You don't, Granger. You're just taking out your sexual frustration on me. Which is quite silly, by the way, seeing as I'm generously offering to solve that problem for you."

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. "_You_? HA! You are _not_ generous in _any_ sense of the word! 'Generous' implies sharing what you have for no personal gain whatsoever. _You _only help people out when it suits you. That's _not _the same thing."

When she finally looked at him again, Malfoy was circling her, patently staring at her body. "I disagree." His lips appeared right next to her ear. "I'd call what I did for you in the Astronomy Tower 'generous'."

Hermione stiffened and scowled at him. "I wouldn't. You thought you were going to get sex as a result, so that's personal gain."

"Oh, _Hermione_," he tutted, coming back around to face her again. She was disturbed by the velvety way her name rolled off his tongue. "Why don't you just give up now and save yourself the embarrassment? It's going to happen again. I know that you know it, too. You're just trying to hold off until I give up. But here's the thing." He leaned forward, locking eyes with her. "I won't give up. I can be patient."

She narrowed her eyes at him as he started moving again. "Malfoy, did it ever occur to you that maybe, just _maybe_, the only reason I let you touch me in the first place was that I was upset and not thinking clearly? What makes you think that I even _want_ you to touch me again? If you need an analogy, here's a good one. You know that saying about how when you're drunk, even ugly girls look pretty? Well, when I'm depressed, even annoying gits like you seem tolerable. So, now that I don't plan on ever being around you while I'm depressed, I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. _That_ is why I am denying you. Not because I want you, but because I _don't_ want you."

He chuckled. "You know, you almost had me convinced for a moment there. But there's one problem with your explanation, Granger."

She huffed. "And that is?"

Malfoy stopped directly behind her. He leaned in and lightly brushed her neck with his lips. She inhaled sharply. "As much as you try to hide it, your body gives you away every time. You never stop me from touching you in the first place, Granger. You allow it to happen and _then _you push me away. 'The lady doth protest too much methinks,'" he quoted.

And now she was furious again, partly because he was only doing it to rile her up and partly because he hadn't lied. Just when she thought she'd had enough of staying angry at him, he found a new way to aggravate her. Was it possible to be angry to death? She growled and stomped her way to the library, recognizing that her hand was itching to whip out her wand and hex him into silence and utter grotesqueness. She hoped that if he weren't such a pretty boy anymore, he'd do everyone a favor and lock himself up in a tower for the rest of his life. Then some other girl could go find him and reverse the spell, and they'd live happily ever after, far, _far _away from her. Not that she _wanted _him to be happy, but if he was happy then he wouldn't bother to continue haunting her.

Of course, within moments Malfoy was back by her side. She cursed the fact that she was at least a full head shorter than him, and thus his legs were longer and could travel faster. Fortunately, they were close enough to the library that he didn't feel the need to say anything.

As soon as Hermione opened the library doors, the familiar scent of the room wafted around her, giving her some modicum of comfort despite Malfoy's presence. She went straight for the History section and hid herself between the stacks. If anything could make her forget about Malfoy, it would be a history book.

***/***

Draco had chuckled victoriously when Granger had stomped away from him. One of his favorite pastimes was riling her up. It gave him a thrill like nothing else, knowing that he was getting under her skin just as much as she got under his. So when his lovely aunt had told him that she would be going out for the day and that she had barred access to the laboratory, he knew exactly how to pass the time, and set off to find Granger.

The staircase incident had been quite amusing overall, but at the end there he had been worried that Granger might have hated him enough to allow the staircase to throw them off rather than apologize. Fortunately, her fear got the best of her. Unfortunately, she fit far too comfortably in his arms for his liking. She was warm and soft, just as he remembered her from that night before Graduation, and it stirred up some...unresolved inclinations toward her he'd rather forget. He had no problem lusting after her. Now that he knew what kind of figure she had under all those clothes, his lust for her didn't surprise him at all. No, what really unsettled him was the minute tenderness he had for her. It was just a twinge, really, here and there. Back then, that night, he had been genuinely concerned about her mental state. Today, he had been genuinely concerned for her physical state. Of course, he only wanted to make sure she didn't injure herself, because sex tended to be difficult with large bruises and broken bones. So when she _did_ finally give into him, he wanted her to be physically well, so he wouldn't have to restrain himself. But the fact that he had worried at all made him uncomfortable. So he did what any male in his right mind would do. He shoved it back to the recesses of his mind to be forgotten.

It honestly surprised him that she was openly denying her attraction for him, though. It was one thing to say it didn't matter, but another entirely to pretend it wasn't there. So, naturally, he set about proving her wrong. The best part was that the more undeniable evidence he provided of its existence, the more riled up she became, therefore accomplishing both of his goals at the same time. Merlin, she was easy to manipulate. It pleased him to no end. He only stopped, really, because he saw her wand hand twitching, and he knew that if he pushed her too far, he'd provoke a duel.

He wasn't afraid of her, of course. He was confident of his own abilities, but he was also smart enough to not underestimate hers. He had watched her wandwork carefully over the years at school. She was quick and efficient with every swish and flick, so he knew she would be a formidable opponent in a duel. She also had size going for her, too. She was petite, so dodging would be a lot easier for her than it would be for him, giving her the advantage. He would have to rely on his speed, but she was quick, too. So, overall, he judged that a duel between the two of them would end either in a stalemate or a catastrophe. Either every spell would be countered, or they'd sacrifice countering for doing as much damage as possible, resulting in both of them living in St. Mungo's for weeks. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation for both of them, and therefore pointless to provoke.

When they reached the library, he didn't miss how much her face changed. One moment she was scowling, the next she was breathing deeply and smiling brightly. She dashed right in and weaved herself between the shelves, happy to be in her natural element: the bookworm. He felt one of those twinges again, but this time it was more of contentment than of worry. He scowled at the thought and shoved it away. He took a seat at the nearest table and waited. Now that her mood was back up again, all he had to do was wait until she started reading so he could bug her all over again. He smirked in anticipation of the thrill returning.

***/***

Hermione selected a decently heavy biography of a wizard known as Edward the Odd. He was a talented assassin who had preferred using two enchanted daggers rather than a wand to kill, and his signet ring was rumored to have significant magical properties.

She checked the time and sighed. Professor Morgana had only been gone for about two hours. Hopefully Malfoy would pick a book and they could read away the rest of the day.

But of course, that was too much to ask. Hermione sat down at a different table and started reading. It hadn't been a full two minutes before Malfoy sat down across from her and started drumming his fingers on the table.

He did that for five minutes. Straight. Finally she closed her book and glared at him. He smirked back.

"_What_, Malfoy?"

"You're supposed to be entertaining me," he reminded her haughtily. "Watching you read is not entertaining."

She rolled her eyes. "Then go get your own book to read. I assume you actually _can_ read, can't you? Or do you have house elves read _for_ you?"

He scoffed. "Of course I can read. Besides, most house elves can't read. I thought you knew that when you were on your little house elf tirade. What was it? Spittle? No, Spew! That was it."

"It was S.P.E.W.," she ground out.

He grinned. " Right, Spew," he agreed.

She huffed at him and opened her book, fully determined to ignore him. Ten minutes later she thought she had finally gotten the message across, so she started to really relax. She leaned back into her chair and repositioned herself so her left ankle was tucked under her right thigh. She slouched down and absent-mindedly curled a strand of hair around her pointer finger. This is how she had spent hours reading ever since she was little. Her bent left leg made a nice, flat surface for the book to rest on, and the book helped insulate her leg so it wouldn't get cold, especially when she wore shorts or a skirt. Usually her hair-twirling was enough to keep her body from becoming restless, though sometimes she swung her right leg back and forth when she had the extra energy. It was her most relaxed state other than sleeping, and she had managed to forget all about Malfoy's presence.

Naturally, Malfoy didn't let her relax for long. She was well into the fifth chapter, and thus completely engrossed in the book, when she felt something stroke her right knee through her jeans. Her whole body jerked upward, so her knee slammed into the underside of the table. She gasped from the pain, shoved her chair backward, and then stood up, causing the book to fall onto the floor.

She whipped her head up to glare at Malfoy, but realized he had moved to sit on the right side of her instead of across from her. _Definitely him_. He was smirking at her in his usual way, highly pleased with himself. She rubbed her knee to help soothe the pain for a few moments and then grabbed the book off the floor. She placed the book on the table and pushed the chair back in place so the seat was under the tabletop. Then she snatched the book back up and sent one last death glare before silently stalking past him, fuming.

The second she heard his footsteps behind her, she whipped around and pointed her wand right at his heart. He halted abruptly, and she inwardly smirked at the flash of surprise on his face. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"_I_ am taking this book up to my room. _You_ are going to entertain yourself with something else that does _not_ involve me. If you follow me back to my room, Malfoy, I _swear _on every textbook that I own, I will _hex_ you so thoroughly, you will be on mandatory bed rest in St. Mungo's for an entire _month_. Got it?" she spat viciously.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but jerked his chin down in a silent nod. She glared at him for another five seconds before whipping back around and stomping out of the library.


	4. Step 3: Awakening the Reluctant Hero

**A/N: **Hello lovies! Sorry I kept you waiting for so long. With the Easter holiday and my boyfriend begging for my attention while he heals from surgery, the spare time I usually reserve for this story disappeared. But I promised myself I wouldn't go to bed tonight until I did one last edit and updated, so here it is! In this chappie you'll read a bit more about Draco and, because things aren't already stressful enough for Hermione, the main plot starts up! So buckle yourselves in and keep all appendages inside the vehicle, because from here on out it's going to get bumpy!

**Reviews:**

**SlytherinGurrl** - Thank you for responding to my request! Your surprise is in this chapter. I hope you like it! =D

**FindMe215 **- Thank you! Yes, they are excerpts from Professor Morgana's book. They were one reason that I fell in love with the original story, so as soon as I decided to adopt it, I knew that was one aspect I was going to keep and improve on. I'm so glad you like them, too! One reason I love Dramiones so much is the banter. I love reading it just as much as writing it, so those scenes never get boring for me.

**EgyptianQueen** - I just want you to know that I love your reviews more and more. You give such great feedback and we think so much alike...anywho. I'm so glad you think this is going well. I enjoy cotton-candy fluff sometimes, but I always admire the meaty stories with substance and lightheartedness. I promised myself when I first started reading fanfiction that if I ever did decide to write one, I was going to strive for that perfect balance of substance and fluff. It sounds like I'm mostly succeeding, so yay! Deliciously arrogant...you know, I think that might be the perfect way to describe Draco. I never thought I would describe conversation as delicious, but the way he banters with Hermione is just so. I'll see what I can do about giving him more screentime. I had originally envisioned this as an All-Hermione-POV story, but as I was writing, I had the urge to tell Draco's side, too, so I'll work on including him more. Hahaha. You know, that's not such a bad idea...I think I might be able to fit in a duel somewhere. There's one scene later on that I'm worried is a bit OOC, so maybe I'll rewrite that part to include this interesting idea that's forming in my head as I type this...

**allisonconnor **- Thank you! I'm trying to be as canon as possible because I really hate reading stories where I feel like I know what the characters would do more than the author, so I want to start correcting them unless there are extraordinary circumstances, but even then there are times where I'm like "Hermione would NEVER let that situation even happen! She'd see it coming 50 kilometers away and head it off!" So please let me know if you think my writing starts leaning towards OOC. Anyway, I can't take all the credit for the staircase, as that was in the original story, but it absolutely is fun to think about what you would do if it happened to you.

**()- - **No worries! I totally understand. I do indeed thank you for the criticism. It is very strange that Professor Morgana can't seem to keep Draco's name straight, when she has no trouble at all with Hermione's. All I will say about that at this point is that the peculiarity of it is intentional; in other words, it's not an error that I've overlooked.

~~~\~~~

Step 3: Awakening the Reluctant Hero

_For better or for worse, Malfoy men have a protective streak a kilometer wide. Once you've stolen a place in his heart, he will do whatever he can to make sure you are safe, whether or not you expressly order him to mind his own bloody business. Being a thick-headed male, however, he will most likely deny any affection for you in his own mind and therefore any action suggesting otherwise will be either subconscious or otherwise justified via some twisted logic. The worst of it will be that, when you first wake the hero in him, he will simultaneously attempt to avoid you and protect you, which is, naturally, impossible to accomplish. This will cause his mood to be fouler than a starving cat, so I therefore do not recommend playing the damsel in distress if at all possible. Then again, once the hero in him has awoken, it will be nearly impossible to put him back to sleep._

~~~\~~~

That night, Hermione sought out Professor Morgana. She had read the book she had brought from the library three times, but was hesitant to go back to grab another one, lest Malfoy still be there. She was desperate to get back to her potion anyhow. As long as Malfoy didn't squeal on her about their day together (or lack thereof), she saw no reason why she couldn't attempt to convince her mentor that she had found the answer. After all, she wouldn't really be lying since ginger root _could _be the answer. She just didn't think it would be that simple.

She eventually found her mentor in her study.

"Come in," Professor Morgana called imperiously to Hermione's knock.

Hermione took a deep breath and straightened up, terrified Professor Morgana would see right through her and command her to spend another day with Malfoy as punishment.

Her mentor looked up and gave her a searching look.

"You didn't come down for dinner, girl," she said by way of greeting.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, well, Dopey brought it up for me. I was quite engrossed in one of the books I saw in the library and felt more comfortable reading on my bed." Her mentor could smell a lie a kilometer away, so Hermione stuck carefully to the truth.

Professor Morgana regarded her critically, and then nodded. "I see. What do you need, then?"

"I was wondering if you could unlock the laboratory door for me. I think I've found the answer. It came to me when I was reading, and not thinking about it, just like you said."

Her mentor raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her desk chair. "Let's have it, then."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, as you know, I was having trouble because the nettles were too overwhelmed with so much armadillo bile, but I knew that if I added more, then they would interact too much and destabilize the potion. Then I recalled that the Wit-Sharpening Potion uses ginger root to counter-act the bile and act as a buffer between that and the scarab beetle. So, why not do the same with the bile and nettles?" She held her breath nervously under her mentor's gaze.

Professor Morgana pursed her lips as she thought, and at length nodded. "Sounds a little _too_ simplistic, if you ask me, but it certainly could get you closer to the full answer. Buffers probably are the way to go. Alright, girl, go ahead. The password is _veritas_."

Hermione grinned in relief, thanked her, and headed toward the dungeons.

***/***

Draco was bored. He had spent hours in the library after Granger had threatened him and he had managed to read a few books, but nothing really kept his interest for long. Not even _Always Over Dressed: A Study of the Green-bowed_ _Desert Penguin of the Saharan Oases _had distracted him for longer than six and a half chapters. Granger hadn't shown up for dinner, again, so he had been forced to suffer his great-aunt's presence by himself. He would never admit it out loud, but he was jealous. His aunt never allowed _him_ to miss dinner, but Granger was doing "important work" so _she _got to miss it whenever she bloody felt like it.

Not that he really had anything better to do instead of eating, but his aunt was just so _annoying_, bragging about Granger's guaranteed success and how much more fame and political influence she would gain by association. As if Granger would go down in the history books only for creating a potion. As if she had absolutely nothing to do with the downfall of Voldemort.

Anyone who had attended Hogwarts while she was there knew without a single doubt that Potter had only survived long enough to kill the Dark Lord because Hermione Granger had been watching out for his clumsy arse. She alone had kept him and Weasel alive for all those months on the run, and when they had been caught and brought to the Manor, it had probably been Weasel's fault, the great bumbling oaf. If Granger had only been watching out for herself, she probably would have single-handedly saved the Wizarding World by destroying all the horcruxes herself and then blasting You-No-Longer-Exist back to the hell he had spawned from.

Everyone knew all that.

But he, Draco Malfoy, had known she was going to be trouble from that very first Potions class when the swot couldn't physically keep her hand down every time Professor Snape had asked a question. His father had given him one deceptively simple task when he had arrived at Hogwarts: to be the best in everything, as a Malfoy should. That first Potions class, Granger had ruined any notion of completing that task without difficulty. And when Lucius Malfoy had found out a _Mudblood_, nonetheless, had been getting higher marks than his perfectly pureblooded son...well, that had prompted quite a few _incentives _to fix that little disgrace.

But no matter how hard he had tried, he'd never been able to do it consistently. Granger had somehow always managed to complete one more piece of extra credit, or get five points higher on an exam. He had only been able to count on Potions for the highest marks in the class, but even Severus had warned him that it would be too dangerous to overtly sabotage the girl's homework scores since she rarely answered a question wrongly. The other professors had all loved the chit too much to give him better scores, so he had been stuck with his father's anger and disappointment. There had been countless lectures on all the ways Malfoys got they wanted despite the obstacles, and countless rants on how an eleven or twelve or thirteen, etc. year-old Mudblood had been able to absorb so much information about an entire world without knowing it had existed for most of her life.

But no amount of ranting had changed the facts, and the facts were that Hermione Granger was brighter than nearly every person in the school, and there was no way she would let another student usurp her rightful position as the top student. For the first couple years, he had agreed with his father that a Mudblood didn't have any right to be that brilliant, but that fateful day in Third Year, when she had slapped him hard across the face, had shifted his world view. A Mudblood had harmed him, and yet nobody had done anything about it. There were no repercussions, no secret hit wizards hiding in the bushes waiting for the perfect timing to off her for her insolence. Not even a reproach from her Head of House, though it was hard to say if anyone even knew about it aside from the six who had been present. He knew Crabbe and Goyle hadn't said a word because they had forgotten the incident mere seconds after it had happened. He hadn't told anyone, as it had thoroughly shamed him to be hit by a girl, but he had expected the Golden Trio to blab. Apparently, they hadn't said a word either.

A Mudblood had struck Draco Malfoy, and diddly squat had been done about it because nobody had been told, and that included his father. That incident had taught Draco an important lesson: No matter how a person made it seem, nobody could be omniscient. Nobody could know everything that went on in the world at all times. His father had many spies, but if he could identify them, then there was a way for Draco to hide things he didn't want his father to know. At first, he had hid small facts, like his slightly declining Transfiguration marks, or exactly how much Firewhisky he had stashed in strategic places. Later, it became the means for rebellion, for striking out on his own, for becoming Draco Malfoy instead of Lucius Malfoy, Jr.

Draco had eventually developed his own identity, and it was all thanks to Hermione Granger.

He was more in her debt than she would ever know, and it was a source of shame for him that even now, after all these years, he had no idea how to properly repay her.

_**THUMP!**_

"Dylan!" his aunt called from the other end of the hallway.

He was startled out of his reverie as his jaw went rigid, suppressing his anger. Would it really _kill_ the bloody woman to remember his name? It was only five letters, hardly a strain on the memory. The woman knew Classical Latin! One would think a Latin name would be easy for her to remember! _Senile bint_.

He turned around and forced a respectful smile on his face. "Yes, Aunt?" he called back.

"Come here, boy!" she demanded.

He muttered curses under his breath, but did as she commanded. "What do you need, Aunt?" he asked politely when he approached her in front of her bedroom door.

"Go find Hermione in the laboratory and tell her I am retiring for the night. I expect a full report of her results as soon as she wakes tomorrow morning. Goodnight, Darcy."

His jaw twitched, but he held it in check. "Goodnight, Aunt."

She nodded and shut the door firmly behind her. He continued cursing her all the way down to the dungeons. _I bet Granger's family doesn't order her around like an errand-girl_, he sulked, _and she's hinted before that they're not even poor._

If he was honest with himself, he was a tiny, wee bit hesitant to interrupt her. True, the laboratory wasn't her bedroom, but she had threatened to seriously hex him, and he didn't think she had been bluffing in the slightest. But he knew better than to ignore his aunt's request, so he went anyway.

***/***

Hermione stuck the tip of her tongue out as she concentrated on adding a few more drops of armadillo bile to the bubbling cauldron on the table in front of her. She had been right, as it turned out. The ginger root had indeed stabilized the potion, but it was still missing a major aspect.

The key to breaking a memory charm was usually to induce déjà vu and then have the patient focus on the feeling until the memory became clear enough to fully remember. Then the blocked memories were supposed to flow out of the metaphorical hole in the dam like water, filling the patient's head once again. Hermione hoped to make a potion that had two major effects. One, it would sharpen the mind and make it more sensitive to previous experiences by recognizing which associations the patient's neurons had already made. Two, it would amplify those recognized connections, hoping to intensify the déjà vu experience and therefore weaken the wall, so the patient could break through it more easily.

Needless to say, it was a tricky combination because too little would be useless, and too much could easily drive a person to insanity or suicide. Currently she was trying to balance the amounts of the amplification half, but it seemed like everything she used was too much.

Hence why she was carefully adding each drop. As she stirred in the bile, the potion turned a light purple. This time she decided to add lovage into the mix. While lovage was normally used for Befuddlement Draughts, it _was_ an emotional amplifier, so Hermione figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

She picked up the medium-sized jar labeled "Lovage" and plucked out a few small sprigs before setting it back down in line. She dropped one sprig in and stirred, waiting for it to settle. The potion turned medium-purple. She turned up the heat exactly one degree and stirred some more. She bit her lip. Did she want to add another? She didn't think two sprigs would destabilize the potion, but it could be a more delicate balance than she thought...or maybe it would need the extra potency?

She stared at the two sprigs in her hand and then back at the potion. _Oh why not!_ She dropped in another sprig and stirred. The color darkened and reddened, finally settling on a deep burgundy. She watched it carefully to make sure it didn't explode. She waited a full minute before releasing a sigh of relief. _Good, that means the buffers will hold out if I want to substitute the extra sprig._

"Granger!" Malfoy suddenly called from the doorway as the laboratory door burst open.

Hermione jumped at the interruption, her body knocking into the worktable. The resulting tremor caused several of the jars she had lined up to slide back near the edge of the table. Her mouth gaped in horror as two of them tipped backward, threatening to spill their contents onto the floor. She lunged forward over the cauldron and snatched the jars in time to set them securely away from the ledge. She sighed in relief, but frowned as she heard the cauldron bubbling. She looked down and noticed it was getting more active. She suddenly remembered the third sprig she had been holding in her right hand and glanced down at it. Her hand was empty. She replayed her hand's trajectory in her mind and searched all around the cauldron, but it wasn't on the table. _So it must've fallen in, then..._

She whipped her head up and glared. "Malfoy! Look what you've-" she scolded just as the bubbles in the cauldron exploded, spitting the potion all over her face. She gasped, coughed, and sputtered, frantically and blindly searching the table behind her for something to wipe her face. She wasn't going to die, but she did _not _want to leave the potion in contact with her skin and facial orifices a second longer than necessary.

"Granger!" she heard Malfoy yell, panicking. _He _better _be worried about what I'm going to do to him once I get this cleaned up! Thank Merlin I wasn't working on anything life-threatening! Stupid git._

Suddenly she felt fingers grip her chin and a cloth wiping her face clean. Recognizing that she couldn't really help, she just stood still and let it happen. When she opened her eyes, she saw that it was Malfoy's fingers holding her chin and his silver eyes roaming over her face worriedly.

"Granger, are you alright? Do you need to go to St. Mungo's?"

Hermione snorted at him amusedly but gently pushed his hand away. The spots where their skin had made contact tingled, but she ignored it. "I'm fine, Malfoy. I'm going to be okay, I promise. It's nothing life-threatening, I assure you. I wasn't using any poisons or anything."

"Oh...Alright then." His hands dropped to his sides, but he still scanned her expression for anything amiss.

Hermione suddenly found it incredibly funny that he was so worried about her. So funny, in fact, that she started giggling. She couldn't seem to stop, though.

This must have been what Malfoy was searching for, because he nodded knowingly and sighed. He quenched the cauldron fire with his wand, grabbed her hand, and led her out of the laboratory.

Hermione was trying to stop laughing, she really was. It just seemed like the more she thought about how funny it was, the more she laughed, and that made her laugh at herself, which made her laugh harder, and it got to the point where it was actually extremely difficult to breathe because she was expelling most of the air she inhaled before it even reached her lungs. She felt Malfoy trying to tug her along, but her feet stopped moving because she was bending over, clutching her stomach with her free hand. She was vaguely sure that her face must have turned a bright red.

"Granger! Look at me!" Malfoy yelled at her over her laughter, shaking her.

She cracked open her eyes and wiped away the tears gathering around them. She blinked multiple times, but now that she was focusing on trying to look at Malfoy, her hysteria started to subside. She gulped in the air she needed and finally looked up at him, panting. She was completely bent over, he hands supporting her upper body on her bent knees.

Malfoy had squatted down to eye-level with her and was staring at her intently. His hands rested on her shoulders, probably making sure she didn't fall over.

"Are you over it now?" he asked seriously.

She felt the giggles threaten to bubble from her stomach up to her mouth again, but seeing as she just nearly passed out when she gave into it, she decided to push it down this time. She couldn't help but smile, though.

She nodded. "Ya," she gasped. "I'm alright now. I think."

"Alright. Come on." He stood up and waited for her to follow suit before grabbing her hand and continuing to lead her onward.

"Where are we going?" she asked curiously, ignoring the way her skin tingled wherever it touched his.

"My aunt's room. You're not exactly in any position to cure yourself, so she'll have to do it."

"Cure me? I'm sure I'll be fine. Whatever side-effects I'm experiencing, I'm sure they'll wear off soon. It's not like I drank the potion on purpose. I probably didn't even swallow a full vial. I just need to sleep it off, that's all," she reasoned dismissively.

Malfoy turned his head around to glare at her. "After that laughing fit you just had, you ought not to be left alone until we're sure it _has_ worn off. You could have suffocated to death," he countered.

She had no reply, so she kept silent, and Malfoy turned his head back around to face in front of him.

Her eyes fell on their linked hands, and she pondered why her skin was tingling, just like when he had grasped her chin back in the laboratory. _Curious side-effect,_ she noted. But the more she focused on it, memories started flooding her mind.

She instantly recalled the night before Graduation, but her memory fast-forwarded to naked Malfoy and the way his hands felt gliding across her own naked skin. The warmth of his body on top of hers. The heat of her own arousal coursing through her and the feeling of his own against her skin. Then the memory backtracked to the moment her orgasm had hit her. The triumphant smirk on his face just before her eyes slid shut. The warmth of her breast in his mouth. The pocket of heat generated from both of their bodies. Then a more recent memory, the feel of his lips brushing against her neck. His breath fanning across her ear as he whispered to her. The way her body yearned to fall back onto his, to bridge the gap of open space between them, to feel his body warm hers once again.

She gasped at the tidal wave of memories, heart pounding, stumbling backward and yanking her hand from his. She blinked and her eyes latched onto his confused stare. The memories didn't stop. The way he leaned in, staring into her eyes, and whispered, "I won't give up. I can be patient." The thousands of times she had glared at him and he had stared right back. The moment she had walked right up to him, said "Fuck you, Draco Malfoy," and then gave into her desire and kissed him.

She desperately broke their gaze and looked anywhere but him, shaking her head, shutting her eyes tightly, clutching her head. But the memories still kept flooding her mind. She suddenly heard a strange string of the same syllable running circles around her like a mantra:

"No no no no no no no no," and then she realized it was _her_.

"NO! GO AWAY!" she cried out, shaking her head frantically and crying.

Would she _never_ be rid of him? Not even her _mind _was safe! How could she make it stop? _Merlin, make it STOP!_

Just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. She focused on the warmth surrounding her, keeping her eyes tightly closed. She didn't want to know where it came from, or why it was there. She just wanted to relax and enjoy it. She needed a reprieve and the warmth chased everything else away. She sighed and snuggled into it.

Then she registered the warmth tentatively stroking her hair and surrounding her more tightly. She liked this cocoon. Could she just stay here forever? That would be nice...

"Granger...?" a voice whispered softly.

She frowned but didn't open her eyes. Who was trying to invade her warm cocoon? She snuggled deeper in. Maybe this was a dream. If it was, she didn't want to wake up now. She liked this place.

"Granger," the voice tried again, more insistently. "Come on, Granger. Get up."

She scowled. Only one person called her Granger and was _this_ annoying. "Go away, Malfoy," she huffed.

He laughed, and she felt her cocoon rumble disruptively. "I can't do that."

"Sure you can," she retorted. "One foot in front of the other. You can do it. I believe in you," she replied sardonically.

"Granger, you're sitting on my legs."

She frowned. Now that was just preposterous. Why on Earth would she be sitting on him? Nonsense.

He sighed. "Open your eyes and see for yourself."

So she did. She opened her eyes and stared right at his shirt. She blinked and looked down. Oh. Would you look at that. She _was_ sitting in his lap. How embarrassing. She blushed and quickly removed herself.

"Sorry," she muttered without looking at his face. She didn't have to look at his mouth to know he was sitting there smirking at her.

She cleared her throat and dusted herself off, and then halted. She put the pieces together. _Okay,_ _so, whatever emotion I focus on, I either recall memories similar to it or I get caught up in the extremity of the emotion. So all I need to do until it wears off is just focus on pleasant, happy emotions, and I should be okay._

"Granger?"

"Huh?" She looked up. "What?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I _said_, are you ready to keep going?"

Hermione looked around and noticed they were now on the main floor in front of the main staircase. Her eyes widened and she backed away, staring at it. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

He frowned. "Why not?" Then he looked back and saw the staircase. "Oh, right. Well, I'm certain it will notice you're obviously under the influence, so it won't mess with us this time."

She shook her head, trying not to focus on the staircase and the memories it evoked. _Think happy thoughts, Hermione. Happy thoughts._ _Better yet, just don't be emotional at all, if you can._ She took deep breaths and focused on logic.

"No, Malfoy. You don't understand. The potion is throwing me back and forth between emotional extremes. Even thinking about that staircase is starting it up again. Just - just go up yourself, get your aunt, and bring her down here. I'll be okay, I promise. I just need to keep my eyes closed and stay calm."

"Are you sure?" he asked suspiciously.

Was he really that worried about her? Huh. Go figure. She nodded, still keeping her eyes shut.

"Positive. Just go. I'll be okay here."

"Alright, then. But if you're wrong again, I'm not going to believe you ever again when you say that," he warned.

She couldn't stop a smile from forming on her lips, but she was able to shove the laughter back down.

"Okay, just go!" she yelled. She sighed in relief when she heard his footsteps running up the stairs.

In order to prevent herself from thinking anything emotional, she timed him. She counted every second that he was gone, and relief flooded her when she heard the familiar sound that announced her mentor's presence.

_**THUMP!**_

"What did you do to yourself _this_ time, girl?" Professor Morgana reproached.

The memory of the potion exploding popped into her mind instantly and her eyes flew open. She glared and pointed at Malfoy.

"It was all _his_ fault!" she shouted. "I was doing my work, minding my _own_ business, when he _burst_ through the door, not even with a _knock_, and scared me half to death! _He_ made me bump into the table and nearly shatter the ingredient jars, so I had to catch them, but the extra lovage dropped into the cauldron and the potion exploded in my face!" She was absolutely enraged by the time she finished explaining.

"Calm yourself, girl! No use getting so riled up over spilt potion," her mentor reprimanded.

Hermione shut her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to focus on her breathing. At length she was calm enough to explain.

"Sorry, Professor. It's the potion. I got some of it in my mouth and up my nose, in addition to whatever made skin contact. It's amplifying all my emotions to their extremes. It must have been extremely potent since I only got a little compared to the whole cauldron."

"What was in the cauldron? How much lovage?"

"Um, three sprigs-"

"_Three_? Didn't you think that would be a bit much, girl?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes. I only added two, and only then because I was feeling adventurous, then that _git_ over there made me drop the third one in accidentally."

"Hmm...How much did you say you ingested?"

Hermione gnawed on her lip as she measured it mentally. "Enough in my mouth to coat my tongue. A little went up my nose, but practically my entire face was covered, though I'm not sure if that counts."

Professor Morgana turned to her great-nephew. "How hysterical was she?"

"She nearly suffocated because she couldn't breathe properly, she was laughing so hard. And then she stared at me and went mental, clutching her head and talking to herself. I had to snap her out of that one, too. And then she got very...er..._clingy_ before she figured out how to stay calm," he replied uncomfortably.

She nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right. Well, congratulations, girl. Your potion basically works. It's just a bit too potent, I think. Give it a day or two, and it should wear off. If it doesn't, then we'll talk. I'm going back to bed." Without another word, she started climbing back upstairs.

"That's _it_?" Malfoy asked incredulously. "'Just give it a couple days?' That's all you have to say?"

She gave her nephew an odd look. "What more do you expect, boy? She just created this potion. There's no antidote yet. Surely you realize that. You are related to _me_, after all."

"That's not what I meant," he snapped impatiently. "Aren't you going to look after her?"

His aunt scoffed. "Don't get snippy with me, boy. She's a big girl. She can take care of herself. She's in no immediate danger, and now that she knows she can't laugh, she'll be fine."

"Aunt, you can't be serious! She _won't_ be fine until the potion wears off! You didn't see her fits!" he accused.

His aunt rolled her eyes and looked toward Hermione. "Girl, you can take care of yourself, right? You know what you can and can't do now?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but Professor Morgana continued anyway, so she closed it.

"See? She agrees. Mind your own business, boy, and go to bed."

Malfoy glared at his aunt's retreating back. "Fine! If you're going to neglect her, _I'll_ take care of her. Some healer _you_ are!" he called up to her bitterly.

"How very nice of you, boy," came her patronizing reply.

Malfoy glared upstairs for a few more moments before sighing and walking over to Hermione. He held out his hand to her.

"Come on, Granger. Let's get you to bed."

Hermione stared at his hand and then the staircase. She shook her head. "No. Bad idea, Malfoy."

He glared at her impertinence. "Fine. You go up first and then when you reach the second floor, I'll follow you. Is that better?"

She hesitated. "...I suppose that might work..."

"Good. Off you go, then." He stared at her and waited. She glanced at him and then at the staircase, hesitating.

"_Now_, Granger, or I'm pulling you up that staircase myself!"

"Alright! Fine!" she squeaked, dashing toward and up the stairs. When she reached the top, she let out a sigh of relief, trying her best not to think about anything involving Malfoy, and waited for him.

He escorted her to her room and followed her inside. She collapsed onto her bed and watched him look around critically.

"I _suppose_ this will do," he concluded. Then he turned his critical gaze on her. "I'll be right back. You're not to leave this room until I say, understand?" he ordered.

Completely at a loss in the presence of this new _caring_ side of Draco Malfoy, she merely nodded.

He turned around and promptly left the room, leaving the door wide open.

Hermione couldn't possibly guess what he was planning to do, not that she really tried. It was hard enough being around him and trying to think of unemotional things because _everything_ about him evoked an emotion in her. So really, she couldn't spare any brain power trying to guess his thoughts when she was busy trying to pretend he wasn't there.

All too soon, he returned carrying a large black travel suitcase that looked like it was filled to the brim. He set it down gently on the bed next to her feet - _He must have put a Featherweight Charm on it_, she surmised - and started opening it. He flipped open the cover, revealing clothes and accessories. Hermione was so intent on inspecting the contents of the suitcase, she didn't even notice he walked over to her armoire until she heard the doors open and the screeching of hangers being shoved. She whipped her head up and watched as he pushed all her clothes and shoes to the left side, leaving the right side completely empty.

_Strange_, she noted while watching him walk back to the suitcase, _he's acting as if he were...no...NO!_ Malfoy grabbed a stack of shirts and walked over to the armoire.

Hermione jumped off the bed and ran to place herself between him and the armoire. "_What_ do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" she glared, hands on her hips.

He raised an eyebrow and sighed. "What does it look like, Granger?"

"It _looks _like you're trying to move into my room without my permission!"

"It's not your room. It's my aunt's room," he corrected.

"No, she said it was mine for as long as I lived here. And where, exactly, do you plan on sleeping?"

"The bed, of course."

"Wrong! I only see _one_ bed in here and it's_ mine_! _You _are not allowed _anywhere_ near it!" she screeched.

He gave her a disapproving look. "Calm down, Granger. You're letting the potion get the best of you again."

"Excuse you!" she raged, shoving him backward, away from her armoire. She inwardly preened that he actually looked shocked. "You have _no right_ coming in here and deciding that I'm just going to have to let you live in here with me! Potion or no potion you do _not_ just suddenly decide that a girl is going to share a bedroom with you! I thought you had _manners_!"

By this point she had pushed him all the way back to his suitcase. He placed his clothes back down and glared at her.

"Then what do _you_ suggest, Granger? Because _my _room is down the hall. And every time you've had an episode, you couldn't even manage to _walk_ without my help, and even _then_ we didn't get very far before you went mad. So how do you expect to come get me during the night if you can't even reach my room without collapsing?" he reasoned sternly.

"I don't _need _your help, you bloody prick!" she screamed.

That was when she knew she was out of control. The rage didn't stop building. Every single little mean thing he had ever done or said to her was running through her mind over and over again. All the pain, all the hurt, all the insults, all the curses, everything he had ever said to her in the eight years they had known each other infuriated her to the point of madness. She wanted to tear his hair out strand by strand. She wanted to grab the nearest semi-sharp object and flay him alive. She wanted him to feel every moment and every barb she had ever had to endure because of him. She wouldn't have been surprised, really, if he ran out of the room screaming that she had turned into a harpy from Hell.

Instead, Malfoy sighed, rubbing his temples, and then sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling her with him. She landed in his lap with a high-pitched "Oof!" She fought to stand back up, but he wrapped his arms around hers and constricted them until she couldn't move. She glared at him, and he glared right back.

"You're not well, Granger. I'm in charge of making sure you _get_ well, and you won't do that if you fight me every step of the way. Yes, I understand moving into your room is drastic, but we don't have a choice. I can't risk you getting into an episode during the night and killing yourself somehow just for the sake of modesty. You _need_ to keep calm, remember? I know it's difficult with our past, but you're a strong woman. I know you can do it. Trust me, I don't exactly _treasure_ the thought of being around you all the time, but I can put aside our differences long enough to make sure you get better. And remember, it should only be for two days. Are you going to do the same?" he challenged.

As much as Hermione loathed to admit it, he was helping her already. The second he had pulled her into his arms, the comfort she had felt before returned, so all she had to do was focus on it enough to calm down. And now that she was calm, she could admit he was right. She probably would have suffocated had he not snapped her out of her laughing fit. And every fit she had seemed to immobilize her somehow. She'd probably never make it out of her bedroom, so it made the most sense to have Malfoy right there to snap her out of it.

She was just really, _really _not looking forward to sleeping next to him in the same bed. She was so afraid she would lose control of her emotions and let the lust take over. Seeing him even half-naked would spark it so easily. Hell, it had only taken looking at his hand to set off the lust episode! The worst part was that she knew he wouldn't mind at all, so she couldn't trust him to stop her. Maybe if she asked him nicely? Better yet, she could make him promise!

"On one condition," she replied seriously, looking straight into his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow.

She turned away and took a deep breath. "One of the emotions that can affect me is... lust. So promise me that... if I get into a fit like that, you'll stop me." She bit her lip and looked back at him pleadingly.

Malfoy chuckled. "Of course I promise."

She blinked. "Really? Just like that?"

He gave her a mock-wounded look. "Granger, I know how attractive I am. I don't need the help of a potion to seduce you into my bed. It's like cheating, and I don't need to cheat. When you and I have sex, it will be when we're both physically fit and under no influence but our own," he stated.

She blushed and looked away, clearing her throat. "Yes, well, um, thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome," he replied smugly. "Feel better about the situation now?"

She nodded, embarrassed.

"Good." He scooted her off his lap and onto the bed, got up, and resumed hanging up his clothes and storing the necessary possessions in her room.

Hermione watched silently and tried not to think about him too much.

**A/N2: **For my next challenge, somebody give me a material type, an element (pick whichever interpretation you wish), and an action verb! Until next time...


	5. Step 4: Tempting the Dragon

**A/N: **I'm terrible, I know. In my defense, I had a nasty cold that made me want to just lie down and be unconscious for an entire week, so going to work sucked. But I'm much better now, and my boyfriend's back to work, which means I should be able to get onto a weekly updating schedule with minimal interruptions. Also, I worked very hard on this chapter because I had trouble deciding where to draw the line between good ways to describe things and TMI. Hopefully I got it right, but feel free to comment on that in a review so I'll know for future scenes. Enjoy lovies!

**Reviews:**

**SlytherinGurrl **- If by "Dramione stuff" you mean what I think you mean, your wish has at least somewhat come true! This chappie is more tease than actual "stuff", but definitely Dramione. Enjoy!

**Geezygeezy **- Thank you so much! I started out that way, only reading the complete stories 'cause I thought my excitement waiting for the stories to update would nearly kill me, but I'm a voracious reader, and eventually I ran out of complete stories to read. So I know exactly what you mean, which is why I'm extremely flattered that you like my story so much. I love Draco's personality, too. He's extremely fun to write most times because he has a snarky response for everything that's just on the tip of his tongue.

**viola1701e **- That is so true! They really do act like they're in Kindergarten. Dramione is the only couple who I can easily imagine glaring at each other and arguing, "Am not!" "Are, too!" for hours, except more eloquently. Hermione tries so hard to be the mature one, but Draco keeps dragging her down to his level and she can't help it. It's one of many reasons why I find the pairing so fascinating.

**ThornedHuntress **- Thank you for reading! No worries, I was shocked at how much time I had let pass by without working on it, anyway, so it was time for me to get back to it. It's so funny how men are like that. I think my friend phrased it best when he said, "Males are inherently arbitrary. If you're around all the time, they'll complain that you don't have your own life. But the second that they need you for something (i.e. taking care of them or doing them a favor), they complain that you aren't around enough. You can't win, so just take those complaints with a grain of salt." That little bit of wisdom gave me the strength to tell my boyfriend, "No, I am not coming over tonight to watch TV with you again," so I could work on this and get in some video game time to myself. He did an awful lot of pouting over the phone, and I nearly gave in, but I eventually prevailed. He got over it, so we were both happy.

**EgyptianQueen **- Sorry about that. That's one reason I need a beta. I never know if I'm spending too much or too little time explaining something because I already understand it. I know there's a way to find a beta on here, but it feels too much like soliciting random strangers for me to be comfortable doing it. I guess I'll just have to continue with my twenty-odd revisions. Anywho, I know exactly what you mean about Draco, but I don't think it really is OOC; he thought she was literally going to die and he panicked, so when he finally felt like she wasn't, and _he _was the only thing preventing her stubbornness from risking her life again, he knew that he couldn't just yell at her and expect her to obey. He's an expert manipulator, so he knew he needed to calm her down and reason with her, even though he usually uses that talent to infuriate her. That's how I justify it. But I should also note that he isn't going to stay this sweet and nurturing. The part about the starving cat was more of a foreshadowing than anything else, as you'll see in the coming chappies. Lastly, you should totally write a story! Fluffy is good. Also, I think that last part of your review was meant for someone else 'cause I don't remember you making any relative references, unless they went completely over my head.

**allisonconnor **- You know, for being brain dead, that was awfully poetic. Although your message reminds me of a scene I wrote for another story where I describe a flickering fire and how it creates a sort of battle of light and shadow on Draco's bare chest. It's one of my favorite scenes that I've written (and not just because Draco's half naked in it). Anyway, I like to think I made it seem a little bit like art, in both beauty and expression. I wish you could read it so you could tell me what you think. Sorry I couldn't update sooner to distract you from classes, but hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter.

~~~\~~~

Step 4: Tempting the Dragon

_Malfoy men tend to shy away from relationships unless they are purely physical. No matter how much he is physically attracted to you, if there is even the slightest doubt in his mind that he may care for you, he will never take the relationship to the next step. Therefore, I recommend that you do all in your power to drive him as close to the edge as possible (including jumping into his bed, if need be). Don't worry, most Malfoy men have impeccable self-control, and even though it may drive him to insanity, he will try his best to rein in his lust. Never doubt this, for when a Malfoy finally makes you his, it will be on his terms, and he will be the one in control._

~~~\~~~

While Malfoy finished moving into her room, Hermione went into the bathroom to ready herself for bed. Normally it took her five or ten minutes at most. Tonight she had already been in there for thirty. She just couldn't bring herself to step outside, where Malfoy would be waiting. Probably in just his boxers. The mental image made her shiver. _Dear Merlin, I'm either going to freak out, or do something very, very stupid. I just know it._ She stared down at the thin shorts and rayon shirt she normally wore to bed, cursing her body for being such a heat insulator. She used to drive her mum mad by sleeping in shorts and a t-shirt in midwinter, even if her bedroom was cold. There was something about the way she cocooned herself with covers that made her too hot if she ever wore anything warmer. But knowing that Malfoy was about to see her like this after so many days (the Graduation Eve Incident aside) when it had taken years for her to allow Ron the same privilege...she suddenly wished she had a thick nightgown that covered every inch of her skin. It would make her feel less like a 'scarlet woman,' as Ron's mother would say.

Hermione still hadn't completely gotten over that time in Fourth Year, when Mrs. Weasley had taken the word of _The Daily Prophet _over hers and called her such because she had allegedly been stringing along both Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and Viktor Krum, Bulgaria's internationally-famous Quidditch star. Long story short, Mrs. Weasley should have known Hermione well enough by then to know she was more interested in Ron romantically than the other two put together. It wasn't until she had noticed her care packages being slightly lacking compared to the boys' that she realized Mrs. Weasley didn't think of her as a daughter so much after all, or at least not enough to believe her over that wretched gossip hag Rita Skeeter. Fortunately, Harry had remedied that by tactfully setting her straight, but the lack of trust had stung. Mrs. Weasley had become a second mum to her, but Hermione suspected the woman was always going to be quick to think the worst of her.

Another reason she and Ron hadn't worked out; he hadn't believed her when she mentioned her suspicions. He was rather thick-skulled on a daily basis, let alone trying to tell him that she didn't want to live at The Burrow because she was afraid his mother didn't truly like her. That conversation had been impossible, because Ron seemingly had the emotional range of a teaspoon, and therefore didn't recognize anything more than hunger, anger, happiness, and sadness.

Unlike Malfoy, who had a creepy sense of what she was feeling before she even finished feeling it. It was probably what made his insults so poignant; he knew exactly which buttons to press and when to drive her up the wall. He'd have to have a sense of her emotional patterns in order to manipulate them effectively. Which was exactly why she was procrastinating exiting the bathroom. He had more control over her now than ever before and she hated it. And she really didn't want to let him see her underdressed because it would feel like she was rewarding him somehow for being a prat. It was his fault she was in this mess, after all.

But she was so _hot_, despite the fact it was still technically winter and therefore cold outside. Her palms were already sweating, and her heart was pounding out of nerves. Sure, she could transfigure her pajamas into a proper nightgown, but that would just make her whole body start sweating, and while her body odor might actually drive Malfoy out of her bed, it would defeat the purpose of him sleeping next to her in the first place. She groaned loudly, cradling her head in her hands.

A knock suddenly sounded on the door, making her jump.

"Granger, are you alright in there?" Malfoy called from the other side.

She swore her heart skipped a beat. She was going to hyperventilate. _Deep breaths, Hermione! Calm down!_ She forced all the air out of her lungs and drew in a normal breath.

"Yes, I'm fine!" she called back, grateful her voice didn't crack. She leaned forward and clutched the edge of the counter in front of her, closing her eyes in concentration. _In...out...in...out. That's it. Nice and slow and easy..._

_You can't stay in here all night, you know_, her inner voice reminded her.

_I know! But just the thought of going out there...getting into the same bed! Granted, it's a huge bed, but still! I'd be able to just reach over and..._

She shook her head. Thoughts like that were not going to get her _anywhere_. She had to just do it. He had already promised not to take advantage of the situation, so all she had to do was trust him. She snorted at the thought. _Yes, that's reassuring._

Five minutes later she gathered her courage and opened the door before she lost it. She stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind her, staring at the floor. She quickly walked over to her side of the bed without looking at him and climbed in. She turned on her side, facing away from him, and let out the breath she had been holding. She snuggled into the covers, tucking herself in.

"Granger," he complained in a hurt tone.

"What?" she muttered without moving.

"Where's my goodnight kiss?"

She shut her eyes and clutched the blankets tighter around her. She _knew_ she couldn't trust him. _Breathe, Hermione._ "You don't deserve one, git," she replied.

"Nonsense," he countered. She felt, rather than heard, him slide over to her side of the bed. "I _always_ deserve one."

She tested the blanket barrier around her back with her elbow. _Good, at least he won't get through that. I _cannot _have him touching me. _"I disagree," she retorted.

_You know what would _really _get him to leave you alone? If you showed him exactly what that potion makes you want to do to him_, her inner voice taunted. She shivered at the thought. Allowing herself to just pounce on him? To teach him a lesson? It was almost too good to be true.

_It is,_ another voice reminded her. _You might not be able to stop, and he might not either._ But he did promise...

She squeaked when she felt Malfoy's lips brush her ear. "Graaaangerrrr, where's my kiss?" he sang teasingly.

_Now's your opening! Go for it!_ the first voice urged.

_No! You can't give in so easily!_ cried the second.

_You know,_ interjected a third, _it would be incredibly fun to tease him right back...a taste of his own medicine..._

Spurred on by the arousal now warming her body at Malfoy's proximity, Hermione decided she liked the third voice better. It was a nice compromise, half-surrendering, yet half-teasing.

"Grang-" he whispered again.

Before he could finish, Hermione turned over, burst out of the cocoon she had made, and launched herself into him, knocking him onto his back.

Malfoy grunted at the impact but she didn't give him time to do anything else before she crawled on top of him properly and kissed him. Someone had to teach him to be careful what he wished for, and she was just the girl to do it.

***/***

All Draco had wanted to do was push her a little, test the limit of her control. Whatever he had expected Granger to do, it wasn't _that_. He had expected something more along the lines of her attempting to slap him, or if she did kiss him, it would be the barest brush of the lips before she retreated back under the covers. What he got instead was Granger pouncing on him like a wild cat in heat. Then again, she _had_ warned him that her control might snap under the potion's influence. Not that he was complaining or anything.

It only took him a moment to adjust before he opened his mouth and allowed her to plunder it. His hands went straight toward her back, hoping he could slide them under her shirt, maybe even under her shorts if he got the chance.

But Granger wasn't having any of it. Her hands caught his and interlaced their fingers, preventing him from touching her the way he wanted to. Her control _had_ snapped, hadn't it? That was why she had pounced on him. ...Wasn't it? Maybe she just liked being on top. It _would_ fit with her bossy personality, after all.

She suddenly shoved his hands against the pillows on either side of his head and lowered her body completely onto his, leaving only her shirt's thin layer of rayon between their bare chests. Only his silky boxers and her thin cotton shorts (and probably some flimsy underwear beneath that) barred his way to her most intimate parts. She slid her body against his and he groaned into her mouth, feeling her lips smile against his. He hardened like wood almost instantly, and his skin felt like it was pleasurably on fire.

Who _was_ this girl? No, this beautiful, sexy _succubus_, now teasing him relentlessly? Her shirt was riding up her stomach from the friction so with each pass more and more of her soft, silky skin glided across his stomach.

His body strained against hers, trying to create more friction to push up her shirt just to feel more skin above, while below his member was half-attempting to create enough friction to burn a hole through their barriers of clothing. He could deal with some pain if it meant he would end up sliding against that moist, warm haven between her thighs.

Eventually, Granger broke the kiss so they could both replenish their oxygen levels. He groaned at the loss, panting, but she was still grinding her body against his. Merlin, he wanted to just thrust inside of her so _badly_. He opened his eyes to see her wicked grin, her lips hovering so close to his that he wondered if he could make them connect by sucking in the air between them. He had to be dreaming. Granger would _never_ do this, potion or no potion. It was impossible in reality. But Merlin, he prayed to whatever powers existed that he'd never wake up if he were dreaming.

Finally, he felt her lips touch his once again. He opened his mouth, ready for another go, but she merely brushed her lips against his once and pulled away completely.

"Goodnight, Draco," her husky voice purred. It conjured an erotic mental image of her luxuriating on a bed of velvet, naked and sated. She tucked herself back under the covers on her side, exactly as she had been positioned before.

He stared at her, dumbfounded, for a good minute, lamenting the sudden absence of warmth, and wondered what the bloody hell had just happened. And then it all fell in line. He had been teasing her, so she decided to get revenge on him, and to make him let his guard down, she had made it looked like her control had snapped. But really, she had chosen that exact moment.

Either that potion she had consumed could alter personalities, or Hermione Granger was his soulmate.

As soon as the thought popped into his head, he shoved it away. _Soulmates, _he scoffed mentally. _Bollocks. No such thing. _He looked down and frowned at his still achingly hard erection. Then he looked at Granger. He glared at her back. What he _wanted_ to do was flip her over and have his bloody way with her, the minx. He sighed. But he couldn't. He had promised her no sex.

He glanced sideways at her. ...Although...there were lots of _other_ things they could do that weren't sex...

He shook his head. No, she'd had enough to deal with tonight. He could easily retaliate tomorrow. He grinned wickedly at the schemes already forming in his head. Yes, he'd make her pay for that later. Tonight, they just needed to sleep.

He looked down at his erection and frowned, sighing. But first he needed to take care of this.

He got out of bed and quickly made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

***/***

Hermione's heart was pounding again, partly from the physical exertion, partly from the effort to stay silent, partly from the thrill of arousal which still coursed through her body, and partly from the thrill of beating Draco Malfoy at his own game.

As soon as she heard the bathroom door close, Hermione burst out into quietly restrained giggles, still not believing what she had done. Sure, the potion had amplified everything...her lust, her confidence, her dominant streak...

But she had still done it, and succeeded splendidly at that. She had known Malfoy long enough to know that when he was silent, he was plotting. And he had been silent ever since she had rolled off him. That told her he was at least suitably impressed and already planning his own retaliation. Otherwise he would have said something snarky, like, 'See, Granger? You want me.' His silence always meant more than his words.

By the time he finally came out of the bathroom, she had calmed down some, but was still wide awake. She didn't even want to know what time it was because she should have fallen asleep hours ago, but it was still pitch black behind the curtains, so it couldn't have been that late.

Hermione sat up and watched him as he climbed back into bed. She smirked, feeling a sudden urge to revel in her victory.

"You broke your promise, you know," she commented lightly.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "How's that?" he replied, pulling the covers over his legs.

She involuntarily watched his thighs disappear under the blankets and licked her lips, remembering the feel of his silky boxers and bare skin on her legs. _Wow, okay. This was a really bad idea. I should have just tried to go to sleep anyway_... _even though taunting him _is_ fun. Merlin, now I'm just torturing myself!_

She glanced back up at his face, which was watching hers. "You didn't stop me," she clarified.

His mouth slowly curved into a knowing smirk. She was instantly swimming in arousal all over again.

"I didn't need to stop you; you stopped yourself before things got too...out of control."

She tried to breathe normally, but her eyes kept roaming, over his face, his chest, his arms. The memories of him naked, the knowledge that he was one scrap of clothing away from being naked right next to her...she tried to force her eyes shut so she could focus on being calm, but all she could focus on was him, and the way his skin felt against hers, the groans he made when she made him want her like a constant buzzing in her ears...

She finally managed to tear her gaze away from him, but she was so incredibly aroused she didn't know how to stop it. Maybe she could just hide under the covers and get herself off? Malfoy surely wasn't going to help her after the stunt she just pulled, not that she would ever dream of asking him anyway. That conversation would be far too embarrassing.

Completely forgetting about the conversation she had started with him, she sunk back down under the covers up to her chin, lying on her back, and closed her eyes, allowing her heightened arousal to wash over her. If she was going to do it, now was as good a time as any. At this point she honestly didn't care if Malfoy would figure out what she was doing. She just needed release so she could sleep.

"Granger?" he prompted curiously.

"Shut up, Malfoy. I'm trying to concentrate."

She let him assume she meant trying to concentrate on sleeping, hoping he would try to do that himself and leave her alone. She exhaled, willing her body to relax, and started quietly pushing down her shorts and underwear under the covers. When she got those off, she moved her hands up to push her shirt above her breasts. It would take more time to completely take it off, and leaving it on wouldn't restrict her movements, so just getting the material out of the way would do for now.

"Would you like a hand to help with that?" Malfoy whispered seductively from right next to her.

She jumped and then glared at him. _Is he a freakin' ninja or something?_ _Nobody moves _that_ silently every time! _

"With what?" she replied stiffly, though her hands resumed moving, now caressing her skin in preparation.

Instead of replying with words as she expected, he merely grinned wickedly at her and his own hand joined both of hers, slowly sliding across her stomach.

She jumped again at the sudden contact, halting her hands' movements. She contemplated telling him to sod off, but she desperately needed that release, and, as much as she hated to admit it, his hands were so talented that she'd be an idiot to pass up the opportunity for such intense pleasure. So instead she sighed and relaxed into his touch.

"How did you know?" she whispered.

"Well, first of all," he started smugly, sliding his hand up to her breasts and massaging them, "there was no way you would be able to just go straight to sleep after snogging like that."

Her breathing turned harsh and she gripped the sheets next to her body. She probably wasn't going to last very long, considering how turned on she already was.

"Secondly, you don't sleep on your back, yet you wanted me to think that you _were_ trying to sleep."

She gasped and her eyes flew open, looking straight at him. Her eyelids fluttered as his hand gave her breast one last caress before moving further south. She forced her eyes to focus and narrowed them at him.

"You don't know that," she denied thickly, trying to sound confident about it.

He grinned. "But I do," he countered. Her breath hitched and she bit her lip as he trailed his fingers up and down her thighs. She couldn't stop herself from squirming. He chuckled at her. "You see, you already tried to make me think you were attempting to sleep twice before that tonight, and both of those times," he lightly dragged his hand lightly across the space between, which evoked a small, pleading moan from her throat, "you turned onto your _side_, not your back. That's how I knew you were up to something."

He skimmed a few more times across her thighs before rubbing circles and finally inching his way to where she wanted his fingers to be. "Thirdly, and this is how I figured out _what _you were doing, I felt you take your clothes off under the covers. You see, in such a big bed as this, you'd _think_ that it would be hard to tell what someone else is doing on the other side, but in fact, it's actually very easy to tell, because of the way the sheets move." He paused. "And I was staring at your form through the covers, too, so I saw your hands and legs move," he added cheekily.

Hermione moaned as his fingers finally reached their destination. At the slightest pressure of his fingers, her legs opened wider for him. She squirmed as he started stroking her. "Finally," he continued, smirking, "you're a straight woman, Granger. Any straight woman in the same bed as me is either getting off _with _me, or getting off _to _me, no exceptions, ever. So, seeing as how you clearly weren't getting off _with _me, by process of elimination, that left getting off _to_ me, and really, I'm just so _generous_ when it comes to these things, that I couldn't lie idly by and not assist you in your time of _need_."

Hermione whimpered as he stroked and rubbed her. She felt like every muscle in her body was tensed, waiting for that final push over the edge, but it just wasn't _enough_. She was delirious with the desire for release, and it was _so_ much more intense than the first time they had done this. Granted, that first time she didn't have a potion in her system making her so horny that every moment was absolute _torture_.

"More!" she begged. "I need _more_!" Her body strained to rub against his fingers, hoping for any kind of extra stimulation.

"What do you say?" Malfoy teased, stopping his ministrations.

Hermione cried out in frustration and glared at him. He just smirked back and his fingers slowly started teasing her, purposefully holding back.

She whimpered again. Even in her current state she had enough presence of mind to vehemently curse him for abusing his power over her, but if he didn't finish her off, she was going to kill him, and it would be such a shame to deny herself his talents in the future. So she gave in.

"Please, Draco, please!"

"Good girl," he replied smugly. His hand set back to work and Hermione had time to throw him another glare before she couldn't help but start moaning again.

Finally, with a well-timed flick, Malfoy whispered seductively into her ear, "Come for me, Hermione."

And she did, screaming exultantly as the pleasure exploded inside her like an uranium bomb.

As she came down from her high, she was torn between grudgingly thanking him for his 'generosity' and slapping him for being so smug about it. She didn't need to look to know he was immensely pleased at the turn of events and was wearing a smirk to show it.

Literally too embarrassed to face him, she turned over onto her side and wrapped herself up again in the covers like a protective shield. She hoped Malfoy was done messing with her for the night, but she braced herself just in case. Her defenses were up like zinc against acid; there was no way he was getting through to her again. She cursed him for being so observant. Then she cursed him for being so talented. Then she hoped that she didn't get addicted to his touch. It would probably be the worst thing that could happen if she did_. _She very much worried that he could ruin her for other men, though she loathed giving him that much credit, and they would never be able to have a full relationship, so _she'd _never be completely satisfied with someone else, not that sex was everything in a relationship, but it was pretty important, and a couple's sexual relationship often said a lot about their actual relationship...

Maybe she could find another man who was equally talented, or... no. She was worrying too much. Nearly any man could become as talented as Malfoy. The only reason he was so good now was because he had had an obscene amount of practice. That's all it took. After all, practice did make perfect, as the saying goes. She wanted the man who made her feel like this to be her future husband, not an infamous playboy. So all she had to do was settle down with a good man, and teach him how to satisfy her. It couldn't be that hard. The last thought she had before finally drifting off to sleep was how she would pity the woman who ended up as Mrs. Draco Malfoy.


	6. Step 5: Becoming Elusive

**A/N: **Hello lovies! Honestly, I don't know what happened. I feel like I just updated last weekend, but when I check the dates, it's actually been two weeks! Thank you to lia163, who asked me what the hell was taking so long, which helped motivate me. To be fair, the last two weekends were mad busy because my best friend got a new boy toy so I had to meet him, and my sister's wedding is coming up in September so I had to go finalize my bridesmaid dress size and all that good stuff. And I spent most of the weeknights researching my new compy that I just bought. I've been trying to play The Witcher 2, but I keep lagging so badly I can't even beat the first major boss of the game, which is sad and frustrating. But enough excuses from me; I hope this super long chappie will persuade you to forgive me. Second to last, a gigantic hug to everyone who reviewed, even if it was just a smiley face. I love you all so much for giving me feedback, so please continue to do so. Lastly, but on a related note, I'm introducing a new character in this chappie, and I'm not sure if y'all are gonna love him or hate him, so please review and let me know what you think.

**Reviews:** There were no specific reviews this time that I felt a compelling urge to reply to (other than grinning like a fool and saying to all of you, "Thank you!" of course), but at least a couple of you mentioned wanting to read some of the other stories I've vaguely referenced in my replies. This is the only story I have up online right now. I have about six other Dramiones I've started over the years with different plots, so I was referring to scenes from some of those. At the end of this story, I'll probably ask you all which plot I should work on next, and you can tell me then if you want me to PM you when I put something new up. I'm definitely not working on any of those until I get this done, though. I can only really work on one story at a time because otherwise I'll start to mix them up in my head and then it all goes downhill from there. I know this from experience. Those two stories I'll probably get around to setting straight at some point in the far future. Anywho, enough rambling. Enjoy!

~~~\~~~

Step 5: Becoming Elusive

_As I previously mentioned, Malfoy men are hunters by nature. As such, they thrive on the thrill of the chase, and the more elusive the prey, the more desired the prize. It is rare that any Malfoy backs down from a challenge. Once your Malfoy has you set in his sights, put some distance between the two of you. Throw some obstacles in the way of his claiming you, such as a boyfriend, being physically distant, or anything else that could be a legitimate reason to not be together. A Malfoy is cunning enough to recognize a flimsy excuse, so be convincing. _

_Notes of warning: While Malfoy men do have a code of honor, it is not quite the same as the popularly-known version. For example, if you decide to get a temporary boyfriend, your Malfoy will try to seduce you into a purely physical relationship anyway, and, seeing as Malfoy men excel above all others in seduction techniques, you will need to stay consistently strong to resist. Hence, you will still have to be constantly elusive and not just hide behind said boyfriend or obstacle. Again, Malfoys are hunters, and no matter what obstacle you throw in front of him, he _will_ find you. The overall point of this step is to show your Malfoy how far he will go to have you, and the longer the 'courtship', the better. Although, while most men tire of the chase after a while, Malfoys tend to try harder the longer it goes on. They are incredibly patient in that they are confident in their abilities, yet their desire for their prey will urge them to move things along, so if you want the chase to keep going, you will have to try harder as well. Be warned, your Malfoy will use every trick of the trade in his considerable repertoire to catch you. It will only end in one of two ways: either he catches you, or he loses interest. At this stage in the game, I've never even heard of a Malfoy losing interest, because he would have stopped pursuing you long before this if he weren't interested. So remember, it is only a matter of time before he catches you. Use it well._

~~~\~~~

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling worried. Despite her self-assurance before she had fallen asleep, she had a feeling that it wouldn't be so easy to write Malfoy off. As she looked over at the empty spot beside her, she missed him. Of course, if she were honest with herself, she had missed him after Graduation, though she had liked to pretend the whole time that she was one-hundred percent happy he was gone from her life.

She sighed. Not that he _wasn't_ an annoying, pretentious git of a human being, but he was the only peer she had known in Hogwarts that came close to matching her on an intellectual level. He had had the second best marks in the school, just under hers, and her day hadn't been normal until she ran into Malfoy in the hall and exchanged insults. The insults themselves hadn't been all that creative, since they had reused the same ones for the most part, but it was the quick-witted banter she missed. The way that they dueled with words kept her on her toes and eager to improve, basking in the battles she managed to thoroughly beat him. Yet, he had never given up, and she had lost battles, too, so the cycle continued, back and forth and back and forth...

Even now she felt that thrill because they were doing the same thing, she realized. Except this time, the banter included actions, not just words. Instead of arguing over who was less of a human being, they now argued over whether or not she would have sex with him. What was that saying he had spouted all those years about his family? Oh, yes, right. 'A Malfoy _always_ gets what he wants.' She saw no reason why he wouldn't believe it now, despite all that had happened during the war, so it was only practical to presume he would apply the same thinking to this...whatever was going on between them.

To state the obvious, Malfoy wanted to have sex with her. Was there any chance of him failing his objective? With the way she was starting to feel, probably not, yet she could still hold on and fight the good fight for as long as she could. Really, he had to learn _sometime_ that he couldn't always get what he wanted. She'd be doing him a favor. There, that was a good reason she could hide behind. Surely not _every _girl in Hogwarts had succumbed to him. There must have been _one_ girl he had lost interest in and ignored after she resisted his advances for so long...

Well, if such a girl had existed, neither Hermione, nor Ginny, nor Parvati, nor Lavender, nor any other girl she had talked to about him had ever heard of her. She had probably kept it quiet, then. She _must_ have, because otherwise...actually, everyone would have heard about it _anyway_ because the girl _must_ have had friends, and if Draco Malfoy had failed in a conquest the news would have been all over the school mere _minutes_ afterward. Nobody could keep a secret like _that_ in Hogwarts. Nobody would _want _to. That girl would probably have gone straight _to _the gossips of the school, just so she could take Malfoy down a peg or one hundred. The boy was sexy, but he could do without the attitude.

So that only left one conclusion: Malfoy had succeeded in every conquest he undertook. That didn't leave much hope for Hermione.

She needed someone to talk to. How was it possible to feel so many conflicting emotions for one person? She was fond of his wit, lusting after his body, loathing his prat-ish personality, homicidal every time he made fun of her, disappointed that she hadn't woken up next to him, and afraid of the power he had over her in general. The intensity of all those emotions should have made her spontaneously combust by now.

She glanced over at her closet and bit her lip. Usually she avoided re-reading the letters from Harry, Ron, and Ginny, her best friends, because they made her sad. Maybe if she read them again, she could pretend they were right here with her, giving her advice.

She ran over to the closet, opened the door, rummaged around, and withdrew an old shoe box, which she carried over and gently placed on the bed. She hopped back on the bed next to the box and carefully opened it.

She lightly skimmed over the parchment with her fingers, then closed her eyes and held back tears. _Guess the potion is still in me, then. I don't usually get _quite_ this_ _upset._

A knock on the door distracted her. She sniffed and wiped away the tears from her eyes, before answering it.

Dopey's smiling face looked up at her when she opened the door and she smiled back. "Yes, Dopey? What is it?"

"Miss Hermione gots post this morning." He beamed and held out an envelope.

Her breath hitched as she stared at the envelope. _Well, that's a coincidence._ She hesitated, but then reached out and took it from Dopey. She forced a smile back on her face. "Thank you, Dopey."

Dopey beamed back at her and popped away.

She shut the door and walked slowly back to her bed. She used to receive three different letters each month: one from Ron, one from Ginny, and one from Harry. But once they all got hired for their respective Quidditch teams, they found it was easier to hang out after all, and decided to write her one big letter. Since then, she only heard from them once every one to two months. While she was really happy they were kept busy all the time with social events, practices, and games, she missed them terribly. It had been such a huge change for her, to go from having all three best friends around most of the year, to suddenly feeling quite alone. But with what had happened the night before Graduation, she had decided to take the less healthy hermit route, rather than the healthier make-new-friends route. She had preferred to leave behind all thoughts of Hogwarts and Malfoy, but eventually she realized how much she missed her friends, so every time she got a letter, it was a bittersweet moment that she tried not to dwell on too much.

She felt a thrill of joy as she opened the letter and read the first line. She could always tell who was writing the letter just by the greeting. Ron usually called her _Mione_, because he was too lazy to write out the extra three letters. Ginny's exuberance always translated through an exclamation point, like _Hermione!_ Harry just did as he had been taught in school, with the normal _Dear Hermione._

_Dear Hermione,_

_We're so sorry it's been so long since we last wrote. We've been especially busy with practices because our teams are all still in the running and we're all anxious to beat each other because, well, you know how it is. We still manage to get together for a meal every couple of days, though, just to catch up and stuff. Ron's dating the sister of a player from the Wasps, so they've been especially vicious toward the Cannons recently. Thankfully he's at least trying to keep low for the time being. I guess he finally learned after the Amanda incident. _

_Ginny and I are doing great. Since we're traveling so much, and plan to be during our careers, we probably won't get married for a couple more years or so. Not that we don't want to, but you know Molly. The second we get back from our Honeymoon she'll be all over us for grandchildren, and we really don't want that kind of pressure, although I'm sure you know I am really really excited about it. Like you told me before, with no evil maniac running around at the moment, we don't have to worry about rushing into things. I plan on doing exactly as you told me. I'm taking my time, enjoying my job, and my girl, and just being me. I could really do without the extra fame, but it's a small price to pay for how happy I am playing Quidditch. So thanks for that talk, Hermione. I know I said it a million times before, but I don't know what I'd do without you. It's not any less true even now, and not being able to get your advice on every little thing just makes it that much more clear to me._

_Anyway, enough about us. How are you? How are things going with your potions research? We managed to hear through a line of gossips that you're not working for Snape anymore. Knowing you, you've found another mentor, and a better one at that, so we want to hear all about it when we come back home. I know you can't really answer those questions now, but I just want to make sure you know we do think about you a lot. We miss you loads, Hermione. Even Ron says it just doesn't feel the same without getting into an argument with you over something stupid. Is it sad that we miss you reprimanding us for our latest shenanigans? Not that we're doing anything wrong. Or mischievous. Or slightly frowned upon. Or anything at all that you would disapprove of. Because we're perfect angels like that._

_Well, that's pretty much all that's going on here, since you couldn't care less about Quidditch. Ron says that as a show of how much you miss us, you should become a Quidditch fanatic to impress us with what you've learned when we get home, but Ginny's smacking him for you for being an idiot. She says she really misses talking to you about everything and she has loads of stories for you. And maybe even a nice wizard you should meet. Ron says it won't work because he likes Quidditch. Ginny says he should stuff it in his fat mouth and you two could at least give it a chance. You might have more in common than you think. _

_And now they're fighting again. You know, Ginny saying that does make me wonder, are you seeing anyone? If you are, you know we have to meet him if he's still around when we come home. If not, no worries. I'm sure Ginny will be more than happy to set you up with a dozen of her male friends. You know, if I wasn't positive she's madly in love with me, I'd be jealous of all these blokes she hangs around with. Maybe you could take one off her hands? _

_Anyway, we have to go soon. We miss you and can't wait to see you again. Stay safe and don't run yourself ragged, okay? We want there to be a Hermione to come home to. _

_All our love,_

_Harry, Ginny, and Ron_

When Hermione finished reading it the third time through, she noticed she was crying again. Mostly because she missed them just as much and couldn't wait for them to come home, but partially because she did _not _want to have a conversation about what had happened between her and Malfoy. Hopefully he would be gone by then, though, so only she and Professor Morgana would be here when her friends visited. It would be much easier to miss Malfoy in silence than to voluntarily throw him, Harry, and Ron in a confined space and expect them not to provoke lots of bodily harm.

But she had plenty of time before she'd have to worry about that. It was only February now, and the Qudditch season didn't end until May or June. That still gave her at least three months to get Malfoy out of her life.

Malfoy couldn't leave, however, until the "private business" with his aunt was resolved, so that would be her first task. Find out what that private business was and then help them complete it so Malfoy could stop making her life stressful.

Objective set, she searched out Professor Morgana. She finally found her in the drawing room playing with Crookshanks. She hadn't run into Malfoy at all, so she hoped that meant he'd be out all day.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Professor?"

Her mentor didn't look up, too busy cooing at the cat. "What is it, girl?"

"Well, I know this isn't really any of my business, but I'm just curious about how much longer your nephew will be staying with us. You mentioned he was helping you with private business, so do you know how long that might take?"

This made her mentor raise her head and give her a searching look. "You want him to leave?"

_Yes, I do! Very much!_ "Well, you see, Draco and I have a very...complex history. And I'm afraid we aren't getting along that well. Not to say we can't be civil, but it's a very...tenuous civility and so, really, the sooner he leaves the better, lest something unfortunate happens between us. But I know he's here for a reason, so mainly I was wondering if I could do anything to help, you know, move things along?"

She looked up at her mentor hopefully. It wasn't quite the way she wanted to bring up the relationship between her and Malfoy, but she got so excited at the prospect of his leaving sooner that she hadn't been able to contain herself.

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed, girl. The business is nowhere near concluded. My husband and I never had children, so my nephew is our sole heir. The private business he has here is to set up everything to transfer over to him when we die."

Hermione's jaw dropped and the words burst out of her mouth without her even thinking about them. "He's going to get _richer_? How is that even _possible_? He's already got the majority of the Black estate through his mother, in _addition_ to what his father left him, _and_ he benefited from the Death Eaters he was related to, which was nearly _half _of them, _and_ -"

_**THUMP!**_

Hermione jumped and immediately stopped talking, blushing at her outburst.

Professor Morgana gave her a stern look. "Calm _down_, girl, before you hyperventilate. Yes, my nephew is one of the richest men in the country already, and he will undoubtedly only increase that fortune throughout his very long life, which is precisely why I'm giving him everything. He's a shrewd businessman, that one, and I know he'll use every knut well."

Hermione had to sit down, but there weren't any chairs or furniture around, so she settled for the floor. She took a few moments to process all the information. "He's a bloody _empire_, all by himself," she commented in awe, half to herself.

"Indeed, he is."

Hermione looked up at the immensely proud tone in her mentor's voice.

_Well, that's it, then. There's no hope. He's insanely rich, or about to be, so there's nothing that will keep him away forever. He could pay any number of people to maintain his finances while he's away bothering me, unlimited resources at his disposal..._

But she couldn't just give up, either. Maybe Harry and Ginny would protect her? She could hide out at their place when they came home...

Wait a minute. What was she thinking? Would Malfoy honestly go through all that trouble just to bed her? Of course not. He could have any number of women, especially with his fame and overflowing bank accounts...what did she have to worry about? He was only doing it now because she was right there. If _she_ moved out, then he would have no reason to pursue her. He just wanted to shag someone. It didn't have to be _her_.

The answer was so simple she mentally laughed at herself. _Oftentimes the hardest solutions to see are the simplest ones. Silly Hermione._

Hermione stood back up and faced her mentor. While she was sad at the thought of leaving Professor Morgana, whom she had grown to love like a grandmother in such a short time, it was for the best. And it wasn't as if she had to lose contact completely. They would just be sending letters instead of talking in person. Or, she could just stop by once in a while to discuss her progress. She didn't have to _live_ here to study under her.

"Actually, Professor, I think it would be best for me to move out."

Her mentor merely raised an eyebrow. "Why's that, girl?"

She bit her lip. "Well, it's quite obvious that your nephew will be involved for quite some time, since I'm assuming your...list of properties and finances is quite long, and I've nearly finished the potion, anyway, so the hard part is over. I mean, you and I will still keep in touch, of course. I'll no doubt still have questions for you, but I don't need to constantly _be _here to do the research. I could still stop by and read to you from time to time. That way the research doesn't get interrupted and your nephew and I won't...clash."

_**THUMP!**_

Hermione jumped again.

Her mentor scoffed. "Nonsense, girl. That potion is still in your system. You don't know what you're talking about. Of _course_ you need to stay here. Who else will watch over you and make sure you don't get yourself blown up? No, no. You'll remain here." She paused, and Hermione could have sworn there was a slight smile amongst her mentor's expression, which was not unlike her old Transfiguration Professor's stern smile.

"Besides, girl, I've grown rather fond of you in a very short time, and _that _is an accomplishment. Ask my nephew and he'll tell you. Will you really consider leaving a lonely old woman to an empty house with only her house elves and her longing for her husband to return, which will only be for a short time before he's off again?"

Hermione didn't know how she did it, but she was utterly impressed with the way her mentor sounded so haughty and vulnerable at the same time. For the first time since they had met, Hermione wondered if the old woman never rambled, but instead knew _exactly_ what she was saying. What if she took advantage of the fact that people assumed her crazy and set in her ways, using it as a cover to manipulate and browbeat people to do what she wanted? If so, she was certainly a Malfoy, alright.

The drawing room door opened, making the two women focus their attention on it.

"Aunt, I've just met with-" Malfoy paused, noticing Hermione was in the room, but then continued normally, "the appropriate authorities about the Abshire estate. They say they need Uncle's written consent to the exchange, and a few other statements, as usual."

Professor Morgana nodded. "Very well. That will have to wait until he returns, and I'm sure it won't be long now. He'll be due for another visit soon. Draco, is it true that you and Hermione aren't getting along?" she asked off-handedly.

Hermione winced and glared at her mentor. The woman definitely knew what she was doing. She should have gotten out when she had the chance. Better yet, she never should have even brought it up. It's not like it helped anything. She focused on watching Crookshanks watch them interestedly and completely ignored the look Malfoy burned into to the side of her head.

"No, Aunt. I thought we had been getting along splendidly." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

If he had sounded anything but amused, she would have let it go. But Hermione couldn't let him straight out _mock_ his own aunt!

She whipped around and glared at him. "Draco Malfoy, that is a big, fat _lie_! There is nothing _splendid _about our relationship!"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh? I got a very different _impression_ from you last night."

She desperately tried to stop herself from blushing, but failed miserably. _Well, fine. If he wants to play it like that, let's play dirty._ She schooled her expression into one of exasperation.

"I _told_ you about those dreams, Malfoy. Do you understand? Dreams like those happen from time to time, and that's fine, but just because you dreamt it doesn't make it _true_."

It took all of her self-control not to burst out laughing at his response. His face had gone from confused, to understanding, to angry, and then back to his usual smirk.

"Well, you know Granger, it doesn't help stop those _dreams_ when I find you in my bed the next morning. It does make one wonder..."

"Actually," she corrected haughtily, "I believe it was _my _bed that _you _slithered into during the night, so don't even _try _to act like it's all my fault."

His smirk widened. "Yes, Granger, you're right. It does take _two _people to consent to sleep in the same bed."

_**THUMP!**_

They were both staring at each other so intently that they jumped at the noise.

"Darren," Professor Morgana started imperiously, "I thought you were going to take care of her, not aggravate her. Keep a closer eye on her. She's had the silly idea to go live somewhere else because of you, so it is _your_ responsibility to make sure she wants to stay. Now, off you go. I need to spend more time with my Crooksy." She shooed them away.

As soon as the doors were closed behind them, Hermione set off toward the laboratory, steaming. The scheming old woman had an agenda, but she couldn't figure out exactly what it was. While her mentor hadn't been lying about their quickly-growing bond, she was positive the woman had an ulterior motive for keeping her here that had nothing to do with potions research. But could it really be so simple as she was lonely?

"Trying to get away from me, Granger?" Malfoy smirked from beside her.

"And failing, apparently," she ground out. "Not that I'm surprised. _Nothing_ has been going my way since you got here."

"Or maybe you're failing because you're not trying hard enough. Maybe you _want _me to catch you," he suggested nonchalantly.

Hermione stopped and glared at him. "_Why _are you following me?"

"Because my aunt commanded it."

"Well she also told you not to aggravate me, so stop."

"Oh, is the truth aggravating you? Shall I lie to make you feel better?" he asked innocently.

"No. You know what would make me feel better? If you _stopped talking_. I can at least tolerate you when you're _silent_."

Merlin, how was she ever going to get rid of him _now_? Wherever she decided to go, he would just follow her, but where could she lose him? In a crowd? Where would-

Wait a minute. The name Draco Malfoy was just as instantly recognizable by now as Harry Potter, just for different reasons. If she wanted to get rid of Harry, not that she ever would, but someone with that amount of fame...she'd only need to bring him outside, somewhere very public, and preferably with large groups of women to crowd around him and gush. If she could get Malfoy trapped by a ravenous horde of women, she'd be home free. But how to do that without making it seem too obvious?

"I need to go to Flourish and Blotts," she said suddenly, a plan forming in her mind. "They have a new book coming in about the properties of nettles and other similar ingredients in potion-making, and I think it'll help me with the recipe."

Malfoy looked at her strangely, so she threw him a plausible reason. "That's why you're annoying me so much. I've been cooped up in this house too long. I need fresh air." She started walking to the nearest room with a Floo. "If you insist on coming, then fine. Just don't bother me when I'm talking with the owner, got it?" She threw him a glare for good measure and to make sure he was actually following, which he was, _silently_. She cackled mentally. Sometimes she wondered if Malfoy had actually been deteriorating her sanity all these years.

"Dopey!" she called loudly.

Dopey appeared by her side and walked with her. "Yes, Miss Hermione?" he asked hopefully.

She smiled down at him. "Please get us our winter coats, hats, gloves, and scarves. Malfoy and I are going outside."

"Rights away, Miss Hermione!" Dopey beamed and popped out to retrieve their items.

She hated asking a house elf to retrieve her outerwear every time she wanted to go outside, but the reason they were so efficient with it was because they had their own sort of filing system that would take months for her to figure out. She had tried to make sense of it for an entire week after she had first arrived, before finally admitting defeat and letting Dopey wait on her. If she hadn't given up, she would have had to keep buying new clothes, and that was not the way she wanted to spend her money. To make herself feel slightly better, she had persuaded Professor Morgana to work out a deal where she only inconvenienced Dopey without insulting the other elves. It was bad enough feeling dependent upon one elf, let alone worrying about how the other elves would feel when she forgot all their names. Ron's face had turned redder than his hair as he howled with laughter at her attempts to decipher the elven filing system. She was afraid of even thinking it in Malfoy's presence, lest he somehow find out. If Ron had been insulting, Malfoy would be absolutely unbearable about it.

~~~\~~~

It was early afternoon and chilly when Hermione and Malfoy entered Diagon Alley. There was no immediate rush of females, but she did notice that everyone started noticing them. Malfoy started flashing smiles, clearly enjoying the attention, but it wasn't enough. She'd have to stoke the fire a bit if she wanted a clean break from him. She made sure that they passed by the office of _The Daily Prophet_, and then stopped. The last she had heard, Lavender Brown got a job as a reporter and columnist. Still despising _The Prophet_ for everything it had written about her, Harry, and Ron, she didn't read the rubbish. She did hope, however, that she could find someone she knew to tip off.

While Malfoy's back was turned as he flirted with some giggling girls on the other side of the street, Hermione ducked into the office . She approached the front desk, which was manned by a presumably leggy blonde whose nametag said "Peggy" in flowery handwriting.

Peggy was busy chewing gum, listening to the wireless, and filing her long, red painted nails. Hermione cleared her throat, glancing at the door to make sure Malfoy hadn't followed her. Peggy looked up. Her eyes widened comically and her mouth formed an O.

"Hermione Granger!" she yelped. Everyone in the room stared at the two of them and whispered.

Hermione smiled nervously at everyone and then turned back to Peggy. "Yes, hi, er, could you please direct me to Lavender Brown?"

Peggy stared for a few moments longer and then quickly nodded. She pointed behind her. "Down that hall, fifth cubicle."

Hermione grinned brightly. "Thanks, Peggy."

She followed Peggy's directions and poked her head in around a divider. "Lavender?"

The woman in the cubicle was flipping through an issue of _Witch Weekly_ and lifted her perfectly-styled blonde head at the name. "Yes, how-_Hermione_!" Lavender grinned, jumped up, and hugged her as if they had been best friends since birth. "How have you _been_? You practically fell off the face of the _planet_!" she gushed.

Hermione smiled weakly, but hugged her back. "Hi, yes, I've been really good. I can't stay long, but I just wanted to let you know that Draco Malfoy is outside right now. I'm sure he'd love to have you do a piece on him, you know?"

Lavender squealed so loudly she practically burst Hermione's eardrums. She dashed out of the cubicle with a quick "Thanks, Hermione!" and yelled the whole way to the front door, "Oi! You lot! Draco Malfoy's outside! Get out those cameras!"

Hermione smirked and hid in Lavender's cubicle as she heard every woman in the entire office squeal like Lavender and make a mad dash to the front door. She usually didn't like manipulating people like this, but Draco Malfoy always brought out the worst in her.

She waited a minute or two after the place had cleared out, just to make sure the crowd would be in full swing before venturing out of the office. Just as she had predicted, Malfoy was surrounded by what looked like every female in Diagon Alley while answering Lavender's questions in front of the cameras. They moved away from the office, probably to find somewhere large enough to get out of the cold and still fawn over him. Hermione giggled at her success and weaved her way through the crowd. _That should keep him busy for several hours_. She couldn't have wiped the grin off her face if she tried.

After she had cleared the crowd, Hermione breathed in deeply and exhaled happily. She enjoyed the sweet taste of freedom after being practically suffocated by Malfoy for nine days. But now she asked herself a very important question she hadn't really thought about. What did she want to _do_? She longingly thought of Hogsmeade and all the memories she, Harry, and Ron had made there. But then she thought of home, and how she hadn't been in the Muggle world for a long, long time. She couldn't see her parents because they had elected to stay in Australia, but she could visit her old neighborhood, or even just take a long walk.

Destination set, Hermione headed off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

~~~\~~~

Over an hour later, Hermione was relaxing in a diner next to a main road, staring out the window and sipping tea. The waitress who had taken her order came back with a steaming plate of food, and Hermione's stomach rumbled. She smiled up at the woman and looked at her nametag. It was a golden, rectangular pin that had 'Mona' typed on a white sticker label. "Thanks, Mona."

The waitress smiled prettily back. "Not a problem. More tea?"

Hermione looked down and realized her tea was, indeed, nearly gone. She looked back up. "Yes, please."

"Okay, I'll be right back with that. Holler if you need anything else."

Hermione nodded, and turned to her food. Most of it still looked a little too hot to eat without burning herself, so she settled for the warm, buttered toast to start. Hopefully by the time she finished that she could start on the eggs.

The little bell on the front door rang. She looked up to see a man speedwalk along the booths and plop down into the seat across from her. He turned so his back was to the window and slid down in the seat, shooting covert looks toward the door.

Hermione finished chewing and swallowed, watching him with interest while her food cooled.

After a couple minutes, he seemed satisfied that nobody followed him and looked at her.

"Uh, hi. Sorry about that. I'm hiding from a crazy ex-girlfriend."

Before Hermione could reply, Mona brought her tea over. "Here ya go." She turned and noticed the other booth occupant. "Oh, hey, Devon. Your usual?"

The man looked at Hermione, as if asking her permission. She shrugged, so he turned back to Mona. "Thanks, love."

"Sure," she chirped, and walked toward the kitchen.

The man cleared his throat and Hermione brought her attention back to him. He stuck out his hand across the table. "Devon Winchester," he ventured, smiling.

She smiled back and took his hand, shaking it. "Hermione Granger," she replied.

His eyebrows rose. "Hermione. That's an interesting name. Don't hear that one often."

She chuckled. "Yes, I get that a lot."

He frowned. "Oh, sorry."

She laughed and waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'm just happy you pronounced it correctly. So tell me about this crazy ex-girlfriend of yours who's stalking you."

Hermione spent the next two hours talking with Devon, happily engrossing herself in someone else's life and problems so that she could forget about her own.

"So, ya, that's _my_ life story. I feel like I've been talking forever. What about you, Hermione? What brought you to this fine establishment?" Devon grinned, sipped his third coffee, and finished off his bacon.

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, I guess you could say I have my own crazy stalker, but he's not my boyfriend, and that's a really big oversimplification. Our relationship has gotten very..._complicated_ in the past two years..."

He chuckled. "Do tell. Give me all the details. I told you _mine_," he wheedled charmingly.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile, too. "Oh alright, I'll try. So, this boy, let's call him John. John and I went to the same boarding school together for basically our entire adolescence and we absolutely _loathed_ each other. I mean, every time we saw each other in the halls we insulted each other. He comes from one of those old, rich, aristocratic families who thinks that anyone of 'lower status' isn't even fit to breathe the same air. So, of course, he considered me of that 'lower status', and I thought he was an absolute _prick_, so we never got along. Well, it went mostly like that the whole time we were in school. But in the last year, the night before Graduation, I was very...irked with my classmates because they were drowning themselves in alcohol, especially my two best male friends, and since I couldn't knock any sense into them, I decided to take a walk."

Hermione fiddled with the handle of her tea mug as she decided what to tell and what to omit. "Long story short, I ran into John, who was also drowning himself in alcohol, or at least attempting to. He had stolen the bottle from someone else, but there wasn't much left in it, so he was mad that everyone else was getting drunk but he couldn't, or something like that. Anyway, by the end of the night...he and I...well, stuff happened that I'm still not proud of."

Devon smiled teasingly as she blushed. "You shagged?" he suggested helpfully.

She shook her head, blushing. "Not quite that far, but close enough to mortify me. The funny thing is that if he hadn't been so snarky about what we were doing, I _might_ have actually...you know. But as it was, his ego had to stroke itself, which made me come to my senses and run away. But not before he said some very hurtful things."

Devon frowned and squeezed her hand with his comfortingly before removing it. She smiled weakly in thanks. "Anyway, so, as you can imagine, I was ecstatic to get him out of my life forever and content to just avoid him. Unfortunately, the Fates decided they didn't like that plan. About six months after Graduation, I moved in with and started working under an elderly lady, famous for her knowledge and research in my field. I had only been working with her for two months when I discovered that she's actually John's great-aunt. So, nine days ago, he came to stay with her and I've had to deal with him ever since."

She sighed heavily. "The worst part is that I assumed I could just ignore him the whole time, because he's only supposed to be there long enough to sort out 'private family business', but I soon found out that he _also _intended on picking up where we left off the night before Graduation, and he still doesn't want a relationship. He just wants a shag partner while he's there," she spat bitterly.

"And?"

Hermione looked up to see Devon leaned over the table, hanging onto her every word. "And what?" she asked, confused.

He rolled his eyes. "Have you shagged him? Or done anything?"

She glared. "Of course I haven't _shagged_ him. What sort of tart do you take me for? But as for your other question..." she frowned and bit her lip. "Well, I suppose it's not really that much better, but he did manage to get a repeat of the night before Graduation. That was last night."

Devon looked at her searchingly. "I know this is going to embarrass you, but please humor me."

Hermione nodded hesitantly.

"What _exactly_ did you two do those two nights, last night and before Graduation? You obviously don't want to say, I know, but I have a good reason for asking. I have a suspicion."

Hermione frowned. Was it possible that this random Muggle bloke had Draco Malfoy figured out more than _she_ did? Well, she'd never know until she humored him, and any resource that could help her was more than welcome. She licked her lips and blushed, staring intently at her tea. Her eyes darted around to make sure nobody was paying attention to them and lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper.

"He, well, got me off with his fingers."

She took a long sip of her tea, blushing profusely.

When she figured she ought to stop hiding behind her tea mug, she lowered it and cleared her throat.

Devon just stared at her, as if waiting for her to continue. "And?" he prompted.

She blinked. "And what?"

He sighed. "What else did you two do?"

"Nothing. Just that."

He frowned. "Just that? All night?"

She blushed further. "Well, the first time I ran off after because, as I mentioned, he was being a right prick about it. The second time, I, well, fell asleep after. It was a very...er, intense experience."

Devon eyed her suspiciously. "So let me see if I got this right. John's got notoriety, good looks, and money from his family, and so he can get any woman he wants, but instead he's chasing after _you_, a woman who is rejecting him at nearly every turn?"

Hermione nodded. "Pretty much."

"He's shagging other women, though, right? While he's been pursuing you."

She shrugged. "I don't want to know what he does with his spare time."

"Well, you should," Devon objected bluntly.

Hermione blinked. "What? _Why_?" she asked, dumbfounded.

Devon sighed exasperatedly. "Look, you seem pretty smart, but obviously you don't understand the way a bloke's mind works. I see that you embarrass easily, but I'm going to be blunt with you, just to make sure you get the message, okay?"

She nodded automatically.

"Alright. Blokes, especially ones like John, like sex. A lot. I mean, if we had the choice, we would choose to die from having too much sex over any other way to die. So if we have a choice between having sex with a real, gorgeous woman and having sex with our hand, we'd choose the woman every single time. Makes sense, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"Right. So, it's very important if John is having sex with other women while pursuing you, because if he _is_, then you're just a side project, or a hobby, to him. Blokes like him do that all the time. If, however, he _isn't_, then he's either a eunuch, or choosing his _hand_ over choosing a gorgeous woman."

"Well, he's definitely not a eunuch," she confirmed wryly, and then frowned."So, hypothetically, if John _weren't _sleeping with other women, then what would explain why he's...er, using his hand instead?"

Devon chuckled. "That he's bloody in love with you."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You're insane," she managed.

Devon shook his head. "The only time a bloke willingly chooses his hand over a perfectly good shag is when he thinks he has a shot with the woman he wants. Now, whether you'll get John to admit it or not, that's a whole other thing. But there you have it."

Hermione stared down at her tea and fiddled with the handle, then glanced back up at Devon. "Don't you think that...well, _love_ is a really strong word for...you know, his type?"

He nodded. "It is, which is why I mentioned that he's not going to come right out and admit it."

She bit her lip. "Right...but how do you _know_?" she asked a little (alright, a lot) more desperately than she wanted to sound. It was more of an anguished cry, really. Merlin, she was being such a _girl_ right now and she hated it.

His mouth quirked at her antics. He took her hand for comfort and squeezed it again, but held onto it this time. She smiled sadly back and wondered how she could possibly feel so comfortable around him. She had only known him for about three bloody _hours_ and yet she felt like they had been best friends for _years_! Or maybe it was just the fact that she felt he had all the information about blokes that she didn't, yet desperately needed. He seemed a legitimate bloke encyclopedia!

He sighed. "Listen, Hermione. I'm sorry to say, but you're not going to know unless you can figure out a way to read him or trick him into telling you how he feels. I don't see you finding out otherwise."

She groaned. "And how am I going to do _that_?" she whined.

She huffed, but managed to catch the smirk that flitted across his lips. The familiar look immediately changed her expression from defeat to suspicion.

He noticed her change in expression and grinned back at her cheekily. "Say, Hermione, there was one thing I failed to mention when I told you all about me, mostly because I didn't think it was important at the time, but I think you might be able to help me out with a little problem. Would you be interested in a mutually beneficial partnership?"

Her suspicion deepened. "What sort of problem?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, my mother has been hounding me about finding a nice girl to settle down with because she wants grandchildren sometime in the next decade. I'm really not ready for a serious relationship at the moment, so if you wouldn't mind pretending to be my girlfriend for a while, or even just dating for a bit, that would get her to leave me alone for a decent amount."

Hermione smiled teasingly. "What's the problem? Can't get real dates to do your dirty work for you?"

He laughed. "Nah, it's just that they never stick around long, and my mother knows that, so that's why I was hoping you'd go with the girlfriend option. If she sees you more than once, she'll back off, thinking I'm making progress."

"Hmm...maybe. And what do I get out of it?" she queried curiously.

He grinned. "One way to make John admit his feelings is by getting him jealous."

Now Hermione laughed. "So, I just flaunt you around in front of him and he'll profess his undying love for me?"

He smirked. "Not quite. More like he'll fly into a jealous rage at the mere mention of me."

She raised her eyebrows. "Sounds a little dangerous, don't you think?"

Devon shrugged. "You don't have to, Hermione, and you don't even have to decide now. Tell ya what. Go home, think it over, and next week come back here. Same time, same place, next week." He gave her a quick smile and waved as he got up from the booth and headed out the door.

Hermione sat stunned. She hadn't really thought he was serious. Pretending to be someone's girlfriend? Sure, she could understand that some mothers were overbearing like that, but he looked not even past twenty-five. Could Malfoy _really_ be in love with her? Or, if not there yet, was he on his way to loving her? Did _she_ like him that way? Well, he was certainly ridiculously attractive, more so than should be legal, really. And he intrigued her like nobody else. And he was entertaining to talk to, even when they were fighting. He was actually intelligent, and could hold a conversation about something other than food or Quidditch or homework or copying notes. And the _passion_ between them...Merlin, her skin tingled just _thinking_ about kissing him again. Not that she wanted to-

Oh, who was she trying to kid? She wanted Malfoy. Badly. And she might even have a soft spot for the bloody prick. Actually, her whole body was one giant soft spot for him. It was the only reason that explained why he got under her skin so easily. But she had no idea how that happened, because her body _should _have become one giant fortress against him, with everything he had done and said to her in the past.

But, she decided, there was really no point in denying it to herself now. She was certainly on her way to loving the prat, though by no means was she there yet. And she just _had_ to know if Malfoy felt anything similar to what she did. Sure, he was trying to make everything sexual at the moment (and that was when he was being quasi-pleasant) but that could just be a cover for how he was feeling, right? She wouldn't find out until she tried.

Pretending to be Devon's girlfriend wouldn't be so bad. They didn't actually have to date. All she would have to do would be to show up at his mother's house once in a while, have dinner, pretend she was getting to know him. That didn't sound hard. It was certainly a small price to pay for a chance at getting Malfoy to finally let her see what he really thought, and to wipe that stupid, annoying smirk off his face every time he got close to her. He already knew that he could affect her, so it was about time she found a way to affect him back, that didn't involve actually snogging him.

Hermione flung herself out of the booth and dashed out of the diner. She looked both ways and fortunately spotted Devon not too far away down the sidewalk. She hurried and caught up with him, grabbing his arm.

Devon quickly turned around, but smiled when he saw Hermione bent over, panting and gasping. "Ya?"

"Y-yes!" she gasped out. "Let...let's do it," she responded breathlessly.

To her complete surprise, Devon grinned and picked her up in a giant hug. She squealed, but laughed, too, and he put her back down. "Great! Thanks, Hermione. Just you wait. John will be furious in no time, I'm sure of it."

She giggled. "Okay, well, I'm going to go back and pay for the food now."

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Ya, thanks for reminding me about that." He dug out his wallet and handed her some money. "There. They would have caught me next time around, anyway, but since you're going back..."

She grinned at his forgetfulness. "Sure, thanks. So, are we still meeting next week?"

He thought for a few minutes. "Ya, I'll off-handedly mention you next time my mum calls and when she asks you to dinner I'll make it for next weekend. Sound good?"

She nodded and then paused. "What if I need your advice before then?"

He shrugged. "You could ask Mona to let me know next time I come in. Leave me a time and day, and I can nearly guarantee I'll be there. She's a sweetheart, so she won't mind passing on the message. If I can't make it she'll let you know when I can."

"Alright. Sounds good," she agreed. "Bye!" She waved and headed back into the diner, and then decided she ought to go back to the Manor. Malfoy had probably forgotten about her by this point anyway, and was home himself after all that attention. Heading back to the Leaky Cauldron, she giggled, still immensely pleased with herself for pulling off such a huge stunt.

~~~\~~~

Unfortunately for her, or fortunately depending on how one looked at it, Malfoy noticed her as soon as she walked into the Leaky Cauldron and yanked her aside. He was furious.

"Granger! What in Merlin's name were you _doing_ in the Muggle world?" he fumed in a hushed voice.

She was very tempted to tell him to sod off because he didn't own her, but that reminded her of what Devon had said about making Malfoy jealous. She decided that she might as well start now.

"Oh, you know, just wandering around really. I had missed it. It's been such a long time since I took a long walk there. What took me so long was that I met a really nice bloke, and we hit it off immediately. I'm going to see him again next week!" she revealed excitedly.

Malfoy blinked and then narrowed his eyes. "You met a bloke? You made me sit here for _hours_ because you _met a bloke_?"

She nodded happily, feigning obliviousness to his simmering rage. "Mhmm. His name's Devon." She sighed. "It' been such a long time since I've been on a date. I'm so happy, not even _you_ can bring me down, Malfoy!" she mentioned cheerfully. "Now, come on. It's about time we got back home, don't you think?" She didn't wait for a response before brushing past his stunned body and readying herself to floo back home, humming the whole way.

***/***

He was going to kill the bloody bint one of these days.

It hadn't taken Draco long to realize that Granger had set him up with the reporters and impossibly compact crowd so that she could escape him. He had been impressed that she had pulled the wool over his eyes long enough to succeed. In hindsight, he knew the exact moment that she had gotten the idea into her head and put it into action, and he noted that she could be a decent actress when she really tried...well, this time, anyway. Normally she was horrid at it, but he supposed it must be easier around him because she didn't feel guilty about lying to him. To her friends or any of the Hogwarts professors, the guilt probably weighed her down enough to give her away. Was it a bad thing she had no such reservations with him?

In any case, she had managed to run off while he was occupied doing an interview with the lovely Lavender Brown in front of a giant crowd of tittering females. Some of those women were older than his mother. He shuddered in disgust and pushed that train of thought away. The interview had taken up about two hours or so, and he had managed to get away after that. He had assumed that Granger went straight to the bookstore, but she wasn't there and the shopkeeper said he hadn't even seen her. That was the moment he figured it out. After he registered being impressed, he got angry. And scared. He was angry at himself for letting her slip away so easily, and angry at her for being so uncharacteristically deceptive. But he was also scared that he would return to the Manor and his aunt would ask him where she was. And he wouldn't be able to tell her. And then she'd get mad at him for not keeping tabs on her, as he had promised, and send him back out to find her, ordering him not to return until he did. So, he skipped the embarrassing parts and just stayed at the Cauldron, waiting for her to come back.

He had waited. And waited. And waited. For a grand total of two hours, forty-two minutes, and thirty-nine seconds. He kept track, because he was going to hang it over her head every chance he got. Sure, Granger wouldn't feel guilty about lying to him, but he knew for a fact that she would feel guilty about making him wait. That was just the sort of person she was. Even if she pretended to his face that she didn't, he would know, and he would use that knowledge to his advantage, because it hadn't even been for a good reason!

_She met a bloke._ He scoffed mentally. Sure, it wasn't so far-fetched that a Muggle could be interested in her; she wasn't ugly, and in fact was rather attractive, really. But she was so bloody _annoying_ all the time, though not in the same way as Pansy.

Pansy Parkinson, the girl he had dated on and off during school, had an annoying voice, an annoying walk (which she thought was seductive, but really wasn't), an annoyingly clingy personality, and had the most annoying way of knowing what he was thinking, except when it came to her. He and Pansy did think alike most of the time, but while she had been convinced that he had been in love with her, he most certainly hadn't. In fact, he had been the one to end their relationship every single time, but eventually he had gotten horny enough and took her back again because she was a reliable lay. She had had some silly idea that the more he had slept with her, the more in love with her he had fallen, and he had let her think that because telling her the truth would have been difficult and all-around tiring. She wouldn't have believed him, first of all, and if she finally had, she'd have spited him at every turn. Pansy Parkinson wasn't dangerous, per se, but she knew how to make things in your life extremely inconvenient when she was angry, so it was just smoother to play along with her delusions.

No, Hermione Granger was not annoying in the same ways as Pansy, but she was even more annoying than his ex-girlfriend only because he could never really shake her. Pansy, he had been able to keep content and away from him with the occasional lay and even a gift or trinket. Granger, he could rarely keep out of his head. It was like she knew exactly what to say or how to act just to make him angry at her. Fortunately, he wasn't as easy to read as she was, but he was affected all the same, and it annoyed him to no end.

The more time he spent with her in his aunt's manor, the more inexplicably attracted to her he felt. He had assumed that it was merely leftover lust from the fact that she had bailed the night before Graduation, leaving him completely unsatisfied. Granted, that _had_ been partially his fault, because he had opened his stupid mouth about the Weasel, but he hadn't realized that she had had _that _much will power. He had seen that she had enjoyed his talents immensely. He had known that she had wanted more of him, all of him that night. He _could_ have taken her that night. So why wouldn't the mere sight of her remind him of his unfinished conquest and drive him to finish the job?

But now he was starting to think it was something different. He had been genuinely concerned for her safety when the potion exploded. And as much as he tried to rationalize it as somehow being rooted in his lust for her, he knew that wasn't the real root. There was something else, some other emotion, that had made him worry about her. And he had felt that same worry rear his head for the whole two hours, forty-two minutes, and thirty-nine seconds until he saw her enter the Leaky Cauldron. As much as he cursed her, and himself, and feared his aunt, he had worried about Granger. Maybe she had gotten lost in Knockturn Alley, or been kidnapped by a rogue Death Eater wannabe, or slipped and hit her head on something and bled to death in some hidden corner. Thoughts like those had haunted him the whole time.

So when she mentioned that she had _met a bloke_ and had made a bloody _date_ with him, it only proved further that he wasn't only feeling lust. He hadn't cared whom his ex-girlfriends and shag buddies had dated. They could have slept with every bloke in the school for all he cared. But the thought of Granger kissing, and being kissed, and touching, and being touched by some other bloke made his blood boil and his hand itch to whip out his wand and hex the trespassing prick for touching his property.

It was only then that he realized, stunned into silence as he heard Granger cheerily hum some ditty on her way to the fireplace, that in his mind, Granger was _his_. _His_ to annoy, _his_ to touch, _his_ to take care of and protect. Nobody else was allowed. If the prat had been a wizard, Draco would have had no problem tracking him down and intimidating him into staying away from her. But he couldn't quite do that to a Muggle without, you know, admitting the existence of the whole Wizarding world, and he couldn't Obliviate him without rendering the whole visit useless. Not to mention using anything like the Imperious curse would bring Granger's wrath on his head like another Voldemort. That was to be avoided at all costs.

So, since he couldn't directly influence the bloke, he'd have to influence Granger. He _had_ to get her into his bed and keep her there. Well, at the moment she was rather keen on avoiding him, so he'd just have to trap her and seduce her. He'd actually have to start trying now, before the bloody Muggle got to her and convinced her to leave the Wizarding world forever.

~~~\~~~

When Draco arrived back at the Manor, his head was filled with all sorts of schemes and plots to seduce Granger, but he had to throw out at least most of them for sheer absurdity. Potions were out of the question because that wouldn't make her stay long-term without her acting suspiciously, and she'd be absolutely furious when she found out. Likewise, he couldn't use his wand, because any spell would produce the same effect as a potion and eventually make her angry enough to avoid him forever. He might be able to recruit his aunt into helping him, but there was a chance she'd reprimand him and tell Granger just to spite him. Even though he was named the woman's heir, he still hardly knew her. On the one hand, Granger probably already had a vague idea that he had been half-attempting to seduce her all along, and she still gave in...though rarely. On the other hand, if his aunt told her what was coming, then Granger would have the advantage of expecting it, which would definitely hinder his efforts. He had already underestimated her will power once, and he didn't intend to do so a second time.

He eventually concluded that he would investigate his aunt's opinions on the subject, subtly. If the signs were favorable, he'd bring it up. If not, he'd leave it alone. Worst case, he wouldn't have his aunt's help, so he'd just avoid her as he did normally, and focus on making the best out of his natural resources: his body and his knowledge of his target.

While Granger literally, and irritatingly, _skipped _off toward the dungeons, probably to work on her potion, Draco decided now would be the best time to approach his aunt. The sooner he knew her position, the better. He had a week before the Muggle prick could really get his hooks into Granger, and he intended on using it wisely, especially since he only had tonight to sleep in her bed. If he couldn't prove that she was still affected by the potion tomorrow, she'd demand that he get out of her room. She hadn't been nearly as emotional today as she had been yesterday, although he hoped she had been a little _too_ happy about the bloke, meaning there was still some effect he could take advantage of tonight. Granted, he couldn't seduce her tonight because of his promise to her, but the more sexual thoughts she had about him, the better.

He found his aunt in the drawing room, as usual, playing with her stupid cat, which he was positive used to belong to Granger. He had usually seen it in her compartment on the train to and from school, and during the school year he occasionally had seen it trotting about Hogwarts as if it owned the place. It certainly looked like the same cat, except much fatter, and the name even sounded similar.

"Yes, Damien?" his aunt replied to his presence, still cooing at the bloody cat.

He scowled. She _still_ couldn't remember his name. He had sworn that she had gotten it right at least a few times while he had been here. Now if only she could just bloody _remember_ she had gotten it right.

"Draco," he corrected coolly.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Pish posh. Minor details. What do you want? Crooksy and I are busy."

Was this _all _that the woman did with her spare time? Maybe that's why she had stolen Granger's cat in the first place. Bloody spinster, or as good as, with her husband gone most of the time.

He cleared his throat. Which lie was the most probable? He sighed for effect, as if this was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but was obligated.

"My dear mother wants me to ask you about possible future marriage prospects for me. She says that you have access to 'different sorts of women' than she does." He rolled his eyes and set his expression to an impatient one.

His aunt raised her eyebrow at him. "It isn't like her to not ask me directly. I'm sure you've realized by now that she doesn't quite share the same...dislike for my husband as your late father did."

He nodded. "Yes, but she's apparently contracted a slight cold. You know how she is about appearances. She insists she has the Plague, and couldn't bear to be seen or heard in person. So, of course, this is what she spends her time thinking about, and wants an answer so she may continue planning out the _rest _of my life. You know, how many children I'll have, where I'll live, which job I'll take." He scowled, but didn't have to fake it. The woman really was insufferable.

"Hmm...that is true," his aunt mused, tapping her chin with a finger and still petting that blasted cat with the other hand.

Suddenly the doors behind Draco burst open and Granger dashed toward his aunt, stopping right next to him, yet completely ignoring him.

"Professor!" she gasped excitedly. She looked like she had flat out run all the way from the laboratory. "I've got it! I discovered the recipe!"

His aunt's lips quirked into a smile, but she kept her face mostly straight. "Now, now girl. Calm down and tell me."

And then Granger started babbling. She was still out of breath, but that didn't stop her from talking at the speed of light. All he caught were various potion-making terms here and there, like "lovage", "stir", and "cauldron". But his aunt seemed to understand perfectly, because she was nodding appreciatively and weighing Granger's words. Bloody women.

Finally, Granger stopped speaking. She didn't even try to hide her desperate, hopeful expression as she waited for his aunt's verdict.

The light in his aunt's eyes told him she had already made up her mind. But she made Granger sweat for a few moments before allowing her lips to turn up into a smug, proud smile. "I must say, girl, Severus was right. You are, indeed, brilliant."

Granger's face immediately lit up with pride, and then she did the unthinkable. She dashed up to his aunt and hugged her. _Hugged her_. Draco blinked as he watched Granger wrap her arms tightly around his aunt's shoulders. He fully expected his aunt to...well, he didn't know really. _Nobody_ in his family hugged like that. It just wasn't done, except for the times when his mother had been worried about his safety. But that was in a crisis. There was no emergency here.

But she didn't sneer, or push her away, or make some scathing comment about affection. His aunt's lips tilted up into a warm smile as she lightly patted Granger's back. It was as close to a hug as the Malfoys ever got in a time of happiness.

As Granger finally pulled away and beamed at his aunt, his aunt patted her hand. "Now, girl, don't you think you ought to go tell St. Mungo's so they can get the trials underway?"

Granger gasped and nodded. "Yes, of course!" And she dashed right back out of the room, ignoring him. He glared after. He doubted she had even noticed his presence, and that irked him immensely.

"Oh, yes. What were we discussing?" his aunt asked, coming out of her own reverie.

"Future marriage prospects," he replied dutifully, wiping his expression clean and turning back to her.

"Ah, yes, we were. You know, Derek, you could do a lot worse than a woman like Hermione, but tell your mother I will look into the matter and owl her when I come up with a list."

Draco nodded apathetically and headed toward the doors. Mentally he was grinning. So, his aunt approved of Granger. That was one less obstacle, and a possible accomplice, though he decided not to bring that up quite so soon. Things were certainly looking up for him. He smirked.

***/***

After Hermione had sent the letter to St. Mungo's informing them of her final results, she went up to her room and fell back on the bed, sighing. Her back ached from standing over the cauldron for so many hours at a time, day after day, but it was worth it. She was one step closer to making a tangible contribution to academia, and deserved a bit of a rest.

She had almost dozed off, or at least entered some kind of half-conscious state when her bedroom door opened. She frowned. Who dared to enter her room without even asking for permission?

She woke herself up and sat up, staring at the doorway. Malfoy closed the door and leaned back on it, hands in his pockets and smirking at her, like usual. _Oh, right. Malfoy's living in my room at the moment._ She let herself fall back down and ignored him. She supposed she could have been a bit happier than normal about discovering the recipe, but it was hard to say because discovering a new potion was a pretty big accomplishment. Who's to say the potion wasn't already completely out of her system?

"So," Malfoy began, "I suppose I ought to offer my congratulations."

"Thanks," she grunted.

He sighed. "Granger, why are you avoiding me?"

She sighed in return. No nap time for her. She pushed herself back against the headboard for support and clasped her hands around her bent knees in front of her.

"Why _wouldn't_ I avoid you, Malfoy? The only good thing that has come out of me knowing you is Devon. And that only happened _because _I was avoiding you. So, really, only good things happen when I avoid you."

She watched his face carefully as she spoke and was pleased when he openly scowled as she mentioned Devon's name. Well, Devon was right on that account. Malfoy clearly despised the thought of another bloke dating her. But she couldn't be sure it was because he felt more than lust for her yet. She wouldn't put it past him to feel some completely misplaced sense of possessiveness. He seemed like the spoiled brat who wanted his toys all to himself, even if he never used them.

He glared at her. "So making me wait three bloody _hours_ for you because I didn't know where you were or if you were alive was a _good_ thing? My aunt would blame _me_ if anything happened to you because I'm supposed to be taking care of you. Don't you think of anyone but _yourself_?"

She couldn't help it. Hermione barked out a laugh. "HA! Oh, that's rich, coming from _you_. Don't you think that's the pot calling the kettle black? You're one of the most self-centered, narcissistic people I _know_. So don't even start with me about being selfish. You're the bloody _poster boy_ for selfishness. You even just admitted that you were only concerned about me because of the repercussions _you'd _have to endure. You don't care about me. You care about you getting _punished_ because of me."

As she said the words, her heart started breaking. She knew they were true. She had always known. But somehow she had stupidly held hope in the way he had been acting around her recently, especially when he had been so worried because the potion had exploded. But this just proved to her that she was right. Devon had been wrong. She was just a hobby, a side project, in Devon's words.

She pulled her knees tighter to her chest and rested her head forward on the top of them. She would _not_ give him the satisfaction of crying about him in his presence.

"Malfoy, just _go away_," she pleaded tiredly. "I don't need your shite right now." She shut her eyes and fervently wished he'd listen to her for once, not even noticing he had made her openly curse almost as badly as Ron.

But, of course, he didn't go away, because that would have been helpful. The world would end if the boy actually did something that someone else wanted him to do.

"Granger..."

It seemed only a second had passed, but he sounded like he was standing right next to her now. She didn't dare open her eyes at the hint of softness in his voice. It was just an illusion, she tried to convince herself. It wasn't really there. He was cold and mean. He didn't feel anything except lust and pride. If it had been any other girl, she would see right through his façade and scoff at the girl for being so weak. So she tried, she _tried_ to be strong. But now she could smell him, faintly. Yes, he was right next to her, and Merlin help her, she didn't want to be just another conquest.

And then she felt a warmth sliding up and down her back. She sighed as she remembered the comfort she had felt in his embrace. She yearned for the contentment and safety she had felt then, in her little cocoon. It was such a shame that it had to be Draco Malfoy that made her feel like this. But shame or not, that's how it was, and she had two choices. One, relax and let him touch her, even though he didn't deserve it. Or two, back away and give him a piece of her mind for jerking her around. The thought of submitting to him without even fighting made her choose the latter.

She twisted her body away from his hand and turned around, kneeling on the bed and glaring at him. "I told you to _leave_, not to touch me," she reminded him forcefully.

He rolled his eyes. "You're only telling me to leave _because _you want me to touch you. Really, I don't know why it kills you birds so much to just say what you mean."

And there it was, his usual, eloquent insult, this time looping her into the category of being a stereotypical, flighty female. He knew very well that she was anything but flighty, yet pretended she was just to get a rise out of her. Well, it worked. It evoked a profound disgust for his character that gave her the strength to fight with him.

"Maybe," she said acidly, "you ought to rip your head out of your own arse and pay attention! Yes, you are attractive, but that doesn't mean I want you around! God, this must have been how you felt with Pansy Parkinson. You can't just leave me alone for one bloody minute! I don't like you, Malfoy! I can't stand how arrogantly pig-headed you are! You are the human incarnation of _everything _that is wrong with this world, so why aren't you bloody _dead _yet?"

As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she instantly regretted them. Most of it was true, but not everything. She didn't really wish him dead, but she didn't dare give him ground she had already claimed. If she gave him a millimeter, he'd take a full meter. She couldn't budge for him or she'd lose. So despite her conscience rising up to eat at her, her face stayed angry and hateful.

Malfoy blinked. "I am _not _Parkinson," he sneered. "Don't you ever compare me to her like that again," he warned, dangerously quiet.

Hermione smiled cruelly, wanting him to hurt. "Or what? What are you going to do, Malfoy? Glare at me to death? Give me a heart attack with your good looks? You couldn't hurt a Pygmy Puff...or Dumbledore." It was the lowest blow she could think of, and worked spectacularly.

The only warning she had was a single moment where his eyes burned with anger and his wand hand flexed. The next moment, her Shield Charm only just blocked a hex before shattering into mist. She dove to the floor on the opposite side of the bed, dodging another, but he quickly moved around to get a good angle and cast a third, which just barely grazed her. It was a Stinging Hex, so she lost a second from the pain, but managed to send her own Teeth Enlargening Jinx to distract him while she found a better position.

She hid behind the nearest bedpost for a couple spells before Malfoy cast a _Confringo _to blast the barrier out of existence. Having no other option, she evaded a Body-Bind Curse by rolling out of the way and then somersaulting toward Malfoy.

She could have tried to get further away, but she eventually would have been backed into a corner, if he hadn't caught her with the sheer volume of spells he was throwing at her. She could block with as many Shield Charms as she liked, but that would only tire them out, not resolve the duel. She had clearly underestimated his dueling ability. So she took a chance, hoping he wasn't as skilled at physical fighting as he was with magical.

Luckily, he paused long enough to stare at her in surprise, which allowed her to get close enough to sweep his leg out from under him, making him topple over. She silently thanked her father for convincing her to take a couple self-defense classes during one summer. 'Hermione,' he had said seriously, 'I know you can do all sorts of things with that nifty magical twig, but like any other weapon, it can be taken away from you. I'd feel much better if you knew how to make your own body a weapon so you won't be as defenceless should that happen. You'll always be my little girl, so humour me and make me feel a little safer by learning how to protect yourself.' She was now very, very glad she had acquiesced.

"Expelliarmus!" she said quickly, while he was down. He had already started to deflect it, but was a second too late due to being stunned by the fall. She stood up and grabbed his wand out of the air with her left hand while keeping her wand in her right still pointed at him.

They watched each other intently, both panting slightly from the exertion. She felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest from adrenaline and fear of what he'd do next.

Finally, he spoke. "Where did you learn that, Granger?" he asked slowly.

She wanted to shrug noncommittally, but didn't dare let her guard down for a moment. "Class."

He raised an eyebrow. "No class at school ever taught that."

She smirked a little. "I didn't say from Hogwarts."

His lips tilted up just slightly. "Touché." He slowly sat up, eyeing her wand. "Are you going to put that thing down anytime soon?"

"Say you concede," she demanded.

Ten seconds passed in silence while he assessed their positions.

"I concede," he said finally.

Hermione let out a long breath and lowered her wand, ecstatic that she had won, and relieved they hadn't maimed each other too much. They were so volatile together that accidental death was a strong possibility, even with both parties purposefully avoiding it.

Malfoy stood up and straightened himself out. Then he reached out his hand, palm up. "My wand?"

Hermione reached out with her left hand to hand him back his wand. His fingers closed around her wrist instead. She looked at it in surprise for a moment before he yanked her to him, lifted her up a little, and then threw her to the side. She fell backward onto the bed, but didn't have time to react before he was on top of her, yanking her wand out of her hand and tossing it far behind him. He trapped her hands against the pillows on either side of her head by lacing their fingers together and pressing downward.

She glared and hissed, "Of all the treacherous, cowardly-!"

He smirked. "I win. You Gryffindors really are far too trusting."

"You conceded!" she argued.

"You ought to know by now that I'll say anything to get out of a disadvantageous situation. It's almost cute that you actually thought I gave up."

She screamed in rage and struggled against him, cursing that he was right. She was usually so careful around slimy snakes like him. She didn't know why she hadn't just kept his wand and held it for ransom. It was certainly what she was going to do next time. Surely they'd come to blows again.

He chuckled. "Granger, here's a free piece of advice. If you keep flailing around like that you're just going to tire yourself out and make it easier for me to restrain you. Bide your time until you can focus it all in one attack. You'll have a better chance of succeeding that way."

She narrowed her eyes. "Like this?" She moved her knee inward and shoved it upward.

Malfoy's leg jumped out of the way to protect his privates and then used the space under her raised leg to slide himself between it and her other leg. She gasped when their pelvises touched, as the position reminded her of Graduation Eve, and the previous night when she had teased him. She wondered if he had planned this position on purpose just to remind her what it felt like, or if she was overthinking it.

"Precisely like that, except you want to be a lot less predictable," he replied cheekily.

She stared at him wide-eyed, angry, and aroused. She desperately hoped he couldn't feel how much her body had warmed up upon contact with his, and it wasn't just because they were both alive. That smirk of his was always infuriating, but being pressed up against him so intimately made it seem sensual and predatory. It became less of an arrogant taunt, and more of a promise of overwhelming, imminent pleasure. Her insides clenched and for one terrifying second, she wondered if maybe he knew _exactly _how his most trivial actions affected her.

He lowered his face down for the barest brush of his lips on hers, while simultaneously pressing the bulge in his trousers against her just enough for her to have no doubt of her own effect on him. The unexpected jolt of pleasure and want shifted her world like an _Obliviate_, making her forget everything she had just been thinking.

As his lips and hips withdrew, her own followed a few centimeters, trying to maintain contact. A whimper from the lack of warmth passed her lips before she could stop it.

He leaned back down and rubbed his body sensuously against hers, making her arch against him. She could feel him hard and ready, and for the first time in her life, found herself practically dripping wet from anticipation.

Ron had never had the patience to make her feel like this. Or perhaps they had been too much like oil and water, never truly able to mix. Fantastic sex, from what she had heard, required a lot of mixing.

"Does this seem familiar to you, too?" Malfoy breathed into her ear.

The triumph in his voice immediately fueled her anger, which mixed with her lust to form a vindictive sort of honesty.

"Yes," she replied just as breathlessly, relishing the words on her tongue. "It reminds me of the other time you tried to have me and failed. You still can't keep your mouth shut."

His whole body stiffened, which made her smirk. He slowly raised his upper body to move his face in front of hers, eyeing her carefully.

"I have you at my mercy, Granger. I've already won."

His words were confident, but his tone was not. She could taste the uncertainty as he scrutinized her face.

So she laughed throatily at him, basking in the sudden clarity she had gained. "You haven't won anything, Malfoy. You fancy yourself a lion tamer, do you? You can't tame me any more than I can tame you. That's what's so exciting about it. You _want _to conquer me utterly, so completely that I beg for you to take me. But you know very well that I refuse to beg."

His grey irises burnt to charcoal, and she wasn't sure if it was more because of anger or lust, but it was definitely due to some combination of both.

"I've already made you beg for me," he reminded her forcefully.

"Have you?" She asked innocently. "I can't recall ever doing anything of the sort."

He pressed his body down on hers hard. "You bloody minx," he growled accusingly.

She smirked. "Now who's the lion tamer?"

That sent him over the edge, provoking him to attack her all at once. He thrust hard against her core, which made her gasp against his mouth. He took complete advantage, seeking her tongue with his to prove to her that he could tame and dominate her in every way.

But she was ready for the assault, rubbing her body against his to make him lose all control, to prove that he wasn't as all-powerful in the bedroom as he believed. He was good, but he wasn't untouchable in any sense of the word.

During her own fruitless mission to dominate him, however, she forgot that her self-control wasn't endless, either. The sexual potential pulsed through her body like a steady drum beat, strong and loud. She needed to touch him everywhere and anywhere she could reach, so she flexed her fingers against his, trying to communicate her need.

He released them. Her hands dove into his hair, grasping the roots to keep him in place. His lifted up her clothed legs and pressed them against his sides. She took the hint and wrapped them tightly around his waist, pulling their bodies even closer together. She moaned, but knew it still wasn't enough. She needed..._connection_, something that melded them together so that they were no longer two people, but one. She needed to mix somehow.

She needed sex. There was an annoying voice in the back of her mind that was yelling something about not needing it, and she shouldn't be in this position in the first place. A second voice told the first to shut the bloody hell up and let her enjoy it. Who knew if she'd even get a second chance? The first voice then mumbled something about preserving dignity, but went silent after that.

With that settled, Hermione clung tighter to him and grinded her body against his. She smirked as he groaned into her mouth, holding her just as tightly and grinding back. They broke the kiss only due to the necessity of oxygen, but Malfoy didn't waste a second. His lips and tongue went straight for her neck and shoulder, making her moan and gasp as he sucked. After he left a satisfactory mark on her neck, he shoved her shirt up above her breasts. He thrust against her to make her back arch, leaving his hands enough space to unhook her bra. They parted for a few moments to get the annoying articles off of her, but once she was bare from the waist up, he attacked her breasts with a ferocity that left her breathless from moaning.

She couldn't take the heat anymore. It was reaching a fever pitch and she needed to _do_ something about it. So her hands went straight to his belt and started undoing it. To her utter surprise, he slid his hands out from under her back and gripped hers tightly, stopping their progression.

She glanced up at him. "What?" she breathed.

He closed his eyes for what seemed like forever, but was probably only about ten seconds. He took a deep breath before opening them again. He looked straight into her eyes, slightly frowning.

"I promised," he replied seriously.

She frowned back, trying to figure out what he was talking about. It took longer than normal because her brain was so thickly fogged with lust, but she managed. Her mouth opened, and then closed.

She nodded. "You did. But..." she trailed off, not sure how to express what she was feeling.

He stared at her intently, still riled up himself. "Can you honestly tell me that at this very moment, you are one hundred percent positive there isn't a drop of that potion left in your system?"

She bit her lip and shook her head sadly. So much had happened today that she couldn't be sure. All of the extreme emotion she had felt today could have been her, or it could have been heightened by the potion. But she wanted him so _badly_. She wanted to argue that she was enough in her right state of mind that a little bit of amplification didn't matter, yet it wasn't like her to lust after him this much, and it didn't seem like only a little bit of amplification. She could have lied to him, but she didn't want to. She'd be lying to herself, too, ultimately. And she didn't want to do that anymore.

So she sighed, and tried to keep her lust under control. Her one consolation was that he seemed to be just as affected and reluctant as she was. He wanted it, too, badly, but they both knew that stopping was for the best. She started to get out from under him, but he stopped her again, this time with a smirk.

"Where do you think you're going?" he teased.

She blinked, wondering how his tone suddenly seemed so light, as if they hadn't been snogging like chain-smokers and their cigarettes. "I-I don't know. Just, somewhere else. Or at least to get dressed or...something," she replied slowly.

He leaned back on top of her, flooding her once again with heat. She sighed and basked in the warmth's return.

"Nonsense," he whispered seductively. "I also promised I'd take care of you, remember?"

She licked her lips and nodded, her brain still muddled as she waited for his next move. Her heart thudded in anticipation. He slowly captured her lips and she moaned, opening for him instantly. He was far too good at distracting her. The next thing she knew, her pants were open and he was shoving them and her underwear down her thighs. She wanted to ask what he thought he was doing, since they had just agreed not to have sex, but she was too afraid that he'd stop if she did.

The moment he started rubbing her, she felt like slapping herself for not getting it sooner. _Obviously I should have figured it out. He's only done it twice before, one of which wasn't twenty-four hours ago!_ But her mental self-beratings could wait, because the thrusting of his fingers and the slithering of his tongue ensured that the only coherent thoughts she could form had nothing to do with being elsewhere and everything to do with his salacious reputation being well-deserved.

**A/N 2: **Since I too easily lost track of time last chapter, I'm going to ask you all to give me more stuff to add into the next chapter to keep me focused. This time, give me something irritating, something mortifying, and the funniest insult you've ever heard. Ready? Go!


	7. Step 6: Learning the Malfoy Language

**A/N:** Hello again! I'm rather proud of the fact that I managed to edit this in a reasonable amount of time, but this is also due to the fact that I don't have my new compy yet. I can't waste my life playing Diablo 3, and therefore need something else to distract my excitement. Anywho, I love your reviews, like always, so keep them coming! Also, I was planning to update last night, but a thunderstorm disconnected me from the internet before I was ready to, so I apologize for y'all waiting an extra day. I wish I could control the weather enough to not inconvenience me, but I'm no Storm. =(

**Reviews: **

Divess - Hahahahaha! Thank you for the inspiration! Those are all very amusing, and I already have one of those in the story. With your permission, I may use the others in my other stories if I can't find a natural place for them in this one.

DustedSilverAndGold - Oh man. That is such a fantastic scene! I'm still giggling just thinking about it. I wish I could fit it in this story somewhere, but alas, it will not flow with the rest of it. Thank you so much for mentioning it, because that's pretty much how that situation would go, and I always enjoy those kind of dramatic yet hilarious situations. Do I have your permission to use it in a different story? I might make a whole new story just for that scene alone...

viola1701e - You know, an argument could be made that his life _does _depend on it. Otherwise he would suffer wealth, notoriety, and a need for mental stimulation that could only be drowned out by copious amounts of Ogden's Best Firewhiskey. In other words, he would die of alcohol poisoning or liver failure, so his active obsession with her is really saving his life. =P Haha. I can totally imagine Pansy scouring that book for every little piece of info on how to get Draco to love her, only to throw it aside as rubbish just as Hermione did. Nobody pays attention to Professor Morgana until it's too late. As for Devon, I agree. That certainly is an interesting twist, but I will say nothing about what I have planned for him. Though I'm glad you like him!

allisonconnor - Hahahaha! Please tell your fiancé I apologize profusely for stealing your attention. I only need you for about an hour a week; he can have you the rest of the time, I promise! And just because you begged me, this is me not taking two weeks. Thank you for being such a faithful reviewer, and I can't wait to see what you'll say about this chappie!

vashappenin - Not gonna lie, I blushed a little. That's a very high complement, considering how many dramione fics are out there. On the major websites I visit, the dramione pairing has the most fanfics out of any Hermione pairing, and there are A LOT of fanfics starring Hermione. Granted, it could have changed since I last checked about a year ago, but it seems like they're only posting more...Anywho, before I start whipping out my statistics charts, thank you so much for saying that! It makes me really happy that you like this story! I promise I will finish this story, so you will not be left hanging! The fanfic I think could have been the best ever was abandoned years ago, and I swore to never do that to anyone because that feeling sucks.

SlytherinGurrl - ...Doorknob... *bursts out laughing* That one still gets me every time! Thank you so much for sharing that. It really is so stupid it's funny.

nikki98 - Heehee. Yes, yes he is. Thank you! I hope you like this chapter, too!

~~~\~~~

Step 6: Learning the Malfoy Language

_Men and women have always had trouble communicating, but Malfoy men have their own special kind of interpretation that is a whole other dialect of the English language. Annoyingly, the general rule appears to be: if you tell a Malfoy to do or not do something, he will go out of his way to do the exact opposite, because "nobody tells a Malfoy what to do." In short, it is a matter of pride, so getting a Malfoy to actually do what you want him to requires subtle manipulation and a lot of saying what you don't mean, the very thing that men love to complain that women do. Curious, no? For example, if you want a Malfoy to take interest in you, tell him to leave you alone. If you want him to help you, tell him you can handle it yourself. If you want him to fall in love with you...well, if only it were that easy. I still don't know the answer to that one. _

_But it is a two-way street, as they say. Your Malfoy's actions and words will tell you what he is thinking, as long as you know how to interpret them correctly. It isn't quite as simple to understand them because they have a nasty tendency to genuinely hate a lot of people, so it can be difficult to distinguish whom they hate and whom they are fond of. One definite sign that your Malfoy is falling in love with you is his incessant need to pester you about every little thing throughout the day. If he wants to know what you are doing, whom you are seeing, and when you'll be home , then congratulations. You've caught yourself a Malfoy. But be warned, these questions may sound a lot like insults if you don't listen carefully. Malfoys are master deceivers, so if he doesn't want you to know how much he likes you, chances are he will go out of his way to make you think he hates you...or to ensure that you hate him. Don't ask me why he thinks making you hate him will solve anything. That is far beyond my comprehension._

~~~\~~~

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she rolled onto her back and looked over toward Malfoy's side, which was empty again. She felt another pang of disappointment, but stamped it down viciously and frowned. She had no bloody clue what was going on with him. He had congratulated her on her potion and then called her a selfish brat, angering her enough to lead to a physical duel, which then led to a sexual duel, which finally would have ended in _actual _sex if he hadn't been so suddenly..._noble_. Wasn't that supposed to be a Gryffindor trait? He had called Harry 'Saint Potter' countless times. So when the hell did Malfoy start caring about being noble for anyone, especially for _her_?

'He's bloody in love with you,' Devon's voice echoed.

Hermione rubbed her forehead and sighed in frustration. _He _can't_ be in love with me. Draco Malfoy doesn't love anyone. He's completely incapable of loving anyone. If he _were _in love with me then I'd know, because..._

Her train of thought halted. How _would _she know? If Malfoy was good at anything, it was hiding how he really felt. Did she honestly expect Malfoy to no longer be himself? Did falling in love change every person's personality so drastically that they all acted the same? Of course not. When you were in love, all that changed was you started caring more about that person. If Draco Malfoy ever fell in love, he'd still be a reputation-obsessed, Harry-Potter-hating, infuriating-enough-you-wish-you-could-strangle-him-to-death, pompous _git_. He'd just also happen to care about someone else in addition to himself. If Malfoy chose not to reveal to his beloved that he were in love, it would look an awful lot like how he was acting around her, so hot and cold.

Hermione allowed herself a small smile. Either Malfoy didn't realize he was in love, or he was fighting against it every step of the way. The Malfoy she knew, if he had accepted being in love, would have taken advantage of her willingness to sleep with him or tried to romance her into loving him back, because with his ego, surely he would believe that unrequited feelings happened to_ other_ people. Hermione snorted. The git's ego was so huge it wouldn't even occur to him that she might not be in love with him, too. The fact that he wasn't waltzing in here declaring that she loved him and she might as well just admit it now to save herself a whole lot of trouble told her he hadn't accepted it. After all, he had been doing something similar all along. He knew she lusted after him, and what had he been saying this whole time? Things like: 'I know you want me, Granger,' and 'You're still not denying your attraction to me, Granger.' She rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the grin off her face.

_Merlin help me. I'm already too fond_ _of the git. _

Hermione groaned, got out of bed and started getting ready for the day. She needed to talk to Devon, now that she was convinced that Malfoy loved her. She'd go leave a message with that waitress, Mona, and hope they could meet up tomorrow to discuss what to do next. It would probably be something along the lines of getting Malfoy to see her and Devon together so he would get jealous and then do something so out of character that he'd have to admit it to himself.

As she was getting dressed, looking at her clothes suddenly reminded her of a conversation she had had with Ginny a while ago, back at school.

~~~\~~~

_Hermione looked up from her book as Ginny and Harry climbed into the Common Room. Harry grinned at his girlfriend, who giggled and batted her eyelashes at him, making him blush. Hermione allowed herself a smile at the two lovebirds before assuming her usual no-nonsense demeanor and cleared her throat._

_Both of them were startled and looked at her with guilt clear on their faces. _

_"Er, h-hi Hermione! I didn't realize you'd, erm, be up this late.." Harry started with a pathetic attempt at a carefree smile. "Studying, I see?"_

_Ginny bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing at him, and Hermione herself was hard-pressed to keep a straight face_.

_"Harry James Potter, you ought to be ashamed! It's past midnight, which means it is _far _past curfew, for _both_ of you," she glanced at Ginny, and then back to Harry._

_"But Hermione," Ginny soothed, "we made sure not to get caught! It's just been so rough for Harry recently, as you know. And shouldn't _you _be in bed as well?"_

_Hermione lifted her chin haughtily. "_I _am a Prefect, so _my _bedtime is later than yours. And even so, Harry was right, I 'm _studying_, which I guarantee is _not _what you two were doing up so late."_

_This effectively kept them both quiet, blushing bright red at getting caught._

_After another minute or so, Hermione decided they had been scolded enough and smiled. "Alright, off to bed with you. I promise I'll be up soon, as well. Just getting angry at you is making me exhausted."_

_They both looked up at her brightly. With a quick kiss on Ginny's cheek and a "Night, Hermione!", Harry scarpered off up the boys' staircase and into his bedroom. _

_Ginny watched Harry run off dreamily, but then snapped back to reality and started walking toward the girls' staircase when her shirt caught Hermione's attention. _

_"Ginny," she interrupted, making the girl stop and face her._

_Ginny raised her eyebrows but had a faint look of nervousness, worrying if she wasn't getting off quite as easy._

_Hermione gave her a small smile to put her at ease, but then frowned. "Don't you think that shirt is a little...too low-cut to be wearing?" _

_She pointedly glanced at Ginny's cleavage, in which the tops of Ginny's black bra were clearly visible, as well as the valley between her small breasts. _

_Ginny blushed significantly redder than her hair. "I swear I didn't wear this during class, Hermione!"_

_Hermione snorted. "Obviously, or the professors would have noticed through the gap in your robes and McGonagall would have had a fit, meaning the whole school would have talked about it all day."_

_The two shared a smile at that common knowledge. _

_Ginny walked over and sat down on the arm of Hermione's chair, sighing. _

_"Look, Hermione, I don't want to offend you, but if you can't figure out why I'm dressing like this for Harry, you're _much _dumber than we all think."_

_Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of _course _I know why you'd want to...but Gin, you weren't even in Gryffindor Tower! _Anyone_ could have seen you, not just Harry!"_

_Ginny smirked. "Oh, so you're telling me that Ron's _never _made you feel a little reckless? You've never _once _considered snogging in a public place or wearing a shirt with just a _hint _of cleavage to get his blood heated? To make him think of ravishing you every time he saw you?" _

_Then Ginny blanched. "Not that I _want_ to think of my brother like that, but, you know what I mean."_

_Now it was Hermione's turn to blush and stare at the floor. "Not really."_

_Ginny's mouth dropped. " Not even once?"_

_Hermione shrugged. "We don't really plan our snog sessions, Gin. They just happen, usually when we start arguing about something, which I'm sure you've noticed is most of the time. So, really, we don't need to plan them. Besides, if I can get him to snog me without resorting to changing my wardrobe, why would I bother?"_

_Ginny frowned. "Because you want to? I dunno, Hermione. Ron thinks about Quidditch so much I guess I just expected that you'd try to get him to think of you as much as possible. That's how I feel about Harry, anyway." She shrugged. "Maybe it's just me, then."_

_Hermione frowned, too. "Is it bad that I don't feel the same way you do? I mean, it's not that I don't want Ron to think about me, it's just that we have so many other, more important, things to think about that, honestly, him thinking about me that much would do more harm than good. I mean, we have N.E.W.T.s this year, and you know how your brother is with studying. It's like pulling teeth with dull instruments. He needs to stay focused on his schoolwork, not on...well, _snogging_."_

_Ginny sighed in defeat, but rolled her eyes. "You're right. He is irresponsible like that." She got up and headed to bed. "Goodnight, Hermione."_

_"Goodnight, Ginny," Hermione returned. There had been something in Ginny's voice that worried her. Ginny sounded more like she gave up on trying to convince Hermione, rather than agreeing with her. Was there something wrong with her relationship with Ron?_

~~~\~~~

Hermione sighed, staring at herself in the mirror. Yes, there _had _been something wrong with her relationship with Ron; she just hadn't realized or accepted it at that point. But now she knew better...hopefully. She couldn't say that getting involved with Malfoy sounded like a wise thing to do, but as she thought about the previous night, she smiled. Ron had never made her feel like that. With Ron, she had felt so uncomfortable about exposing herself that it was awkward. But with Malfoy, he made it feel like the most natural thing in the world, like she actually _wanted to_.

She breathed deeply and sighed, recalling the way his whole body had teased hers, both skin on skin and through clothing. He had so easily evoked a reckless lust in her, which had made _her _cling onto _him, _making it seem like it had been _her _idea to pounce on him. It was all Malfoy's fault that she felt like this. She had never asked Ron for sex; it had always been up to him to initiate it. But Malfoy made her feel just as Ginny had described that night. Hermione felt reckless and predatory. She wanted to make him jealous. She wanted to make his heated blood rush so far south that the ever-composed and ever-proper Draco Malfoy could barely form a complete sentence for want of ravishing her right then and there.

Hermione smirked at her reflection and blamed Malfoy for that, too. Even she had noticed that she was smirking far more than she ever had before. Grabbing her wand, she shrunk her turtleneck and trousers by one size. She grinned at her own deviousness.

Hermione always bought her clothing one size too big because she had never agreed with form-fitting clothing. If she had dressed like Parvati and Lavender in school, she would have had to go through so much trouble looking for a bloke who liked her personality by sorting through all of the ones who liked the way her breasts looked through her shirt. So, with all the studying she had had to do, it would have taken too much of that precious time away dealing with boy drama she didn't need. Therefore, she had decided to dress _un_attractively, including wearing a skirt that fell clearly below her knees, to make sure the wrong type of boy ignored her. She preferred being teased as a prudish bookworm over being teased as a loose tart any day.

But now Hermione was on a mission, and she wanted to at least be relatively subtle about it. If she flounced around in shorts and a tiny top, Malfoy would get suspicious. Instead, she'd start dressing nicely for Devon, and perhaps not bother to change out of those nice clothes so Malfoy could see them. She giggled to herself at her audacity and headed downstairs to the dining room to eat breakfast.

~~~\~~~

Hermione considered it lucky when Malfoy joined her in the dining room halfway through her breakfast. She had had plenty of time to think about her strategy, and decided that she would act completely normal around him, meaning, like he _hadn't _been so intimate with her. Surely, if he thought that _she _thought that what he had done for her was meaningless, he'd get angry. If Hermione Granger knew how to provoke any emotion in Draco Malfoy, that emotion was most certainly anger. Malfoy thought he was Merlin's gift to the world, so all she had to do was argue that he wasn't, and POOF! Instant Malfoy rage. She smirked mentally.

"Morning, Granger," he smirked, taking a seat across from her and helping himself to some of the food the house elves had put out on the table.

Hermione kept her eyes glued to the book propped up on her leg and leaning against the edge of the table, restraining herself from automatically glancing up at him.

"Morning, Malfoy," she returned absentmindedly. She took a bite out of her toast to increase the nonchalant effect.

She felt his eyes burning into her forehead and continued to scan her eyes across each line as if she were reading. She could hardly remember the previous word she just saw, let alone the concept the words were conveying. But Malfoy didn't know that. She took another large bite out of her toast and chewed slowly to keep herself from openly grinning.

***/***

Draco glared at her. Granger was just sitting there reading. Not that she _didn't_ do that all the time, but she was so calm about his presence that it irked him. He had expected her to blush and stutter or even avoid him because of the previous night, when she had practically begged him for sex in her own way. But instead, she was calmly sitting and reading, as if nothing remotely interesting had happened between them. Hell, she was barely acknowledging his presence.

He narrowed his eyes, looking at her critically. In fact, she was looking positively aloof. Since when was Hermione Granger _aloof_? In school, their deep-seated hatred for each other had ensured that they would always be connected to each other. Even up until yesterday, they had been intensely aware of the other's presence and always reacted accordingly. But today, she acted like she didn't even _notice_ him after he spoke. He mentally sneered. She was up to something.

Granger interrupted his thoughts. "Don't you have business to attend to? I usually don't see you in the mornings," she asked conversationally, still reading that bloody book.

So she was trying to get rid of him?

"Not until later," he replied haughtily, "I have the entire morning _free _to do as I wish." He watched her expression carefully, but it didn't change.

"Oh," she replied uninterestedly, and said nothing more.

After a couple minutes of silence, he decided to pick up the slack.

"And what about _you_? Any interesting plans for the day? Or merely reading?"

Her face broke out into a smile and her eyes became unfocused. She sighed.

"I'm meeting Devon this afternoon," she replied warmly.

Draco scowled. Her voice had positively caressed the bloke's name. He wanted to break something, preferably said bloke's neck.

"On a _date_?" He spat with thinly veiled contempt.

He seemed to have startled her from her dreamy state. She raised her eyebrows at him, but still smiled.

"Yes, on a date."

He rolled his eyes. "How nice."

There was something about the word _date _that deeply disturbed him. He tried not to think about what would happen on said date, but his thoughts refused to turn anywhere else. What happened on a date? A meal, of some sort, entertainment, usually dancing or listening to music, and at the end? A kiss, which led to a lot more than just a deeper kiss. Draco's hands clenched into fists on his thighs. Just the thought of another bloke _thinking _about touching her naked skin made his blood pressure rise dangerously.

He stood up. He needed to get out of here before he did something he would regret. But he couldn't prevent himself from getting in one jab.

"Yes, well, _do _remember to use the proper spell tonight. _One_ know-it-all is enough."

He turned around and headed toward the doors when the sound of a book slamming against the table stopped him.

"_Excuse_ you!" Granger screeched, outraged at his insinuation.

He inwardly smirked in triumph. _This _was the Granger he knew. He turned around, allowing the inward smirk to form on his lips.

"I'm only thinking of your future, Granger," he commented innocently.

She gawked at him and then glared, hands clutching the table edge in anger and leaning forward to get her message across.

"For your information, I am _not _that type of woman!"

Draco raised an eyebrow as he walked back over and leaned forward onto the table, matching her stance.

"Oh? You could have fooled me. Wasn't it just last night when you were _begging _me for sex? And _we_'re not even dating."

Her face fell into a look of shocked horror as she backpedaled away from him and nearly tripped on the chair she had just been sitting in. She looked as if he had just back-handed her across the face. To be honest, though, he had metaphorically done just that. She thought she was so prim and proper? Obviously she was delusional. Just because she _pretended _to be proper didn't mean she was, and that was a lesson she needed to learn.

He basked in the moment of triumph, but a part of him ruined it. It felt _guilty _for saying something so harsh to her. It told him that if he made her cry, he was going to feel it, and it wasn't going to be pleasant at all. He scoffed at that part and stuffed it into a silenced cage, where it belonged.

Finally, Granger pulled herself together, although he thought that the sunlight streaming through the high windows had sparkled on her cheek for a moment. He ignored it and waited patiently for her response.

Granger took a deep breath and glared at him.

"You're right, Malfoy. I haven't been myself lately. The potion was obviously far more potent than I had anticipated, but I assure you that I am now in my _proper _state of mind. I no longer need your assistance during the night, so I expect you to be moved out of my room by the time I retire. Since I do not plan on staying out the whole night, I _suggest _you do it earlier rather than later. Thank you for putting everything into its _proper_ perspective," she hissed.

She grabbed her book and stormed out of the dining room.

As she passed, Draco glanced at her cheek, where he thought he had seen the sparkle.

There it was. A single, tiny rivulet running from the corner of her eye down to the bottom of her cheek, confirming his suspicion. The part of him he had just locked back up burst out of its cage again.

***/***

Hermione hardly knew where she was going. She was blinded by pure rage, not just at Malfoy, but at herself, too. She had given him that ammunition. She didn't know how she didn't expect him to use it eventually. Maybe not so quickly, but she had walked right into that one. The worst part about being an enemy of Draco Malfoy was that his insults were rarely, if ever, fabricated. They were powerful because they were based on the truth, and he knew his enemies well. She cursed the day she had met him, wiping away her tears.

_Fuck Malfoy. Fuck every single thing he's ever done to make me think he cared. And fuck me for believing in something so obviously false. I was right before. He's incapable of love. He doesn't deserve me, and all he ever does is bring out the worst out in me. With any other man, I would have been slow and steady. With Malfoy, he just slithers under my skin and crawls around, poking and biting me until I go insane. And fuck you, whatever hellish power keeps the bastard in my life._

By the time she had stopped mentally ranting, she had stormed all the way to the foyer where Dopey was waiting with her outerwear, bundled up, and made it to the nearest Floo. She sniffed and nodded determinedly. She needed to talk to Devon.

~~~\~~~

When Hermione reached the diner, she was thankful for the cold weather. Now her puffy eyes and red cheeks wouldn't be so telling to strangers, and only Devon would know the real reason behind them. She searched out Mona and found her behind the counter.

Hermione approached it cautiously. "Mona?" she asked hesitantly.

Mona looked up and smiled brightly. "Hello!" She frowned as she took in Hermione's appearance.

"Oh, yet another victim of the cold. Would you like me to fix you up a nice hot tea? It'll make you feel better."

Hermione nodded. She had been planning on staying here for a while anyway, even though Devon wouldn't be here. Though she had to admit, she had hoped that fortune would be on her side for once.

Mona smiled warmly. "Good. Now go make yourself comfortable right over there," she pointed at the booth Hermione had sat in before," and I'll bring it over to you when it's ready. Devon just went to the loo, so he should be out soon. I'm sure he won't mind some company today."

Shocked that fortune was, indeed, on her side today, Hermione couldn't help but ask.

"Devon's here?"

Mona nodded as she turned around to refill the kettle with water.

"Sure is. He's in a right state, mind you. His mother called again."

"His mother? What did she say that upset him?" Hermione leaned on the counter and vaguely remembered Devon mentioning that his mother upset him every time she called, especially because of the dating thing.

Mona put the kettle on the stovetop and then turned back around and leaned against the counter on her own side conspiratorially.

"Mostly the usual about how he'll never find a decent woman to settle down with, but this time he said he had a woman for her to meet. Mind you, I could only hear his side of the phone call, but she sounded screechy and annoyed even from here, so I imagine it was something about him not telling her before or some such thing. He tried to calm her down but I suspect she thought he was outright lying. He's done it a few times already, so she's more suspicious now more than ever."

Hermione turned around when she heard one of the doors open and smiled when she saw Devon walk through. She frowned as she got a better look at him. He looked dead tired.

She turned back to the waitress. "Thanks, Mona. I'll try to cheer him up."

Mona nodded and turned around to tend to her duties as Hermione walked over and sat down across from him. She licked her lips and smiled at him as he lifted his head from his hands and opened his eyes.

"Hey," she greeted softly.

He blinked and then smiled. "Hey, Hermione. What brings you around?"

She bit her lip and looked down. For a few precious minutes she had completely forgotten about her fight with Malfoy, and wasn't sure if now was a good time to bring it up.

Devon frowned. "Hey, talk to me. What happened?"

She shrugged. "I don't know if now's really a good time. Mona just told me that your mother upset you again-"

He put a finger against her lips, silencing her, and her eyes immediately shot up to his.

"Don't worry. It's nothing my mother hasn't said hundreds of times before. Besides, it'll be nice to talk about your problem instead of mine. Or, I can make you a deal. You go first and then I'll vent. Deal?"

He removed his hand and held it out for hers to shake.

She nodded, smiled, and then reached for his hand, shaking it.

"Deal."

And so Hermione launched into everything that had happened since their last meeting. Admittedly, it had only been about twenty-four hours, but Hermione felt like a week had passed with her emotions all over the place.

By the time she finished, she was in tears and Devon was holding her hand on the table.

"I just don't _understand_, Devon! How can he be so..._ambivalent_? First he's cold because we hate each other, and then he's hot because he wants me, but then he gets cold again and then hot, and back to cold, and I just can't _take_ it anymore! And that's not even the worst part! The worst is the fact that he has a wit like acid that burns you to your very _core_! Everything he s-said was _true_, I _did _offer myself l-like a c-common t-t-_tart_!" she sobbed.

Devon sighed and rubbed her hand in both of his.

"Hermione, you weren't a tart. In your hurry to agree with him, I think you're missing the fact that it's not a crime to be sexual with a bloke. You don't have a boyfriend, so you can do whatever you want. It's alright to have fun once in a while."

Hermione looked up at him, wiped her tears with the napkin that came with her tea, and sniffed.

"I don't _want _to agree with him. You do have a point, but I still don't usually do that. I only get involved in the physical aspects when I'm in a committed relationship."

Devon shrugged. "In any case, I have good news for you."

She frowned at him. "What?"

He cracked a smile. "John's definitely in love with you."

She gawked at him. "Are you _mental_? He called me a _tart_! And, well, you know what he said. How is that code for 'Hermione, I'm in love with you'?"

Devon looked like he wanted to pat her on the head, so she scowled at him.

"Did you notice when he suddenly became mean, though? It seemed like a calm conversation up until you said a certain something."

"All I said was that I was...oh," she gasped in comprehension.

"Going on a date with me," he finished smugly. "Trust me, Hermione. If you were any other girl, whom he didn't care about, he would have stayed civil with you and, hell, maybe he wouldn't have even asked what you were doing for the day. He was interested in your life, and you told him you were sharing it with another bloke. Cue jealousy. I wasn't kidding when I said you had to provoke him into a rage. It's just unfortunate that you'll have to bear the brunt of it to get anywhere with him."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Devon. I don't think I even want to be with him after this. He hits hard. I don't want to go through school all over again if I can avoid it, if I actually have a choice this time."

Devon opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped. He closed his mouth and shrugged.

"Whatever you think is best, Hermione."

Her head snapped up. "What does _that _mean?" she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged again.

"This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you how good you two are together, and you shouldn't lose hope because you're meant to be. But I don't know that. In fact, this bloke sounds an awful lot like me in all the wrong ways, so I'd honestly tell a nice girl like you to run and get as far away from him as possible. He's no good for you."

Her stare softened. "Devon..."

He stared right back at her grimly.

"It's true, Hermione. I'm good for translating, but that's it. I'm a terrible boyfriend. I keep telling my mother I'm not ready to settle down yet, and it's true. Relationships are hard and I can't deal with them. It's not that I can't stay loyal to one woman; that's the easy part. The hard part is merging our lives together. I'm selfish and I want her when I want her, but she's always got other things to do. I start to feel neglected and lash out, and then she leaves. It happens the same way every time, but I can't stop myself because I start resenting her and get angry. And when I'm not angry at her, I'm angry at myself for screwing everything up. She isn't doing anything wrong. _I'm _the problem. I can't fix it, so I'm just putting myself out of the equation. All I can hope to be is a great lay for some girl every now and then."

Hermione laughed. "That's your goal in life? To be a great lay?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "It's all I have, Hermione. My roguish good looks and talented appendages."

Now she held onto his hand. "Devon, I've only known you for two days and I already consider you a close friend. You're a very talented friend. I'm already feeling better."

He sighed. "Yes, well, a friend isn't going to get my mother to see the truth."

Hermione pursed her lips in thought.

"Maybe not, but we can put her off for a while. Give you some modicum of peace."

He looked up at her in surprise. "We?"

She nodded, smiling. "We. Did you forget that I agreed to pretend to date you? Why don't you call your mother right now and set up a day for us to have dinner with her?"

He grinned and whipped out his mobile, dialing his home number.

"Mum, you remember that woman I was telling you about?...Yes, Hermione. Yes, it is a mouthful, but she's real..." He sighed. "No, Mum, I don't think she's actually Greek. She's English...I don't know how tall she is! Why does that even matter?..."

Hermione chuckled and he glared at her as he listened to his mother. Hermione beckoned him to give her the phone. He raised an eyebrow, but she gave him an impatient eye roll and repeated the motion.

"Hey. Hey, Mum. Hermione wants to talk to you...Yes, she's with me, right now. We're at the diner...Here, here she is." He handed her the phone with a relieved expression.

Hermione silently laughed at him and took the phone. "Hello, Mrs. Winchester?"

"Hermine?" the woman's voice asked suspiciously.

"Her-mi-o-ne," she corrected clearly and slowly.

"Her-mi-o-ne," Mrs. Winchester repeated.

"That's right. I'm sorry it's so unusual, but I didn't have a say in the matter," she joked.

"Are you being honest or did my son pay you to say you're dating him?" Mrs. Winchester asked bluntly.

Hermione openly laughed. "I assure you, he did not pay me to date him. I'm dating him of my own free will, no bribes."

"Did he tell you that he _has _bribed women?" the woman retorted.

"Yes, he did mention that. He also mentioned that some of them even refused the bribe, and offered out of kindness because he was so handsome."

Devon rolled his eyes at Hermione's fib.

"That sounds just like him, telling lies like that one," his mother responded sourly.

Hermione covered her mouth to prevent her laughter from giving her away. She cleared her throat. "Well, Mrs. Winchester, the reason I asked your son to call you was-"

"_You_ asked him to call me?" his mother interrupted.

"Yes, I did."

There were a few moments of silence. "Continue," his mother ordered imperiously.

"I wanted to know if you would like the three of us, that is you, your son, and I, to get together for a meal sometime soon, so you can meet me in person."

"_You _would like to meet _me_?" the woman asked skeptically.

"Yes," Hermione replied seriously.

Another few seconds of silence.

"Very well, Hermione. Have my son bring you over to my home in three hours and we will have supper together. Goodbye."

Mrs. Winchester hung up, so Hermione clicked off the phone and handed it to Devon.

Devon took it back and looked at her nervously. "So?"

Hermione smiled. "She says you are to bring me over to her house in three hours and we'll have supper."

Devon's mouth dropped. "Today?"

Hermione nodded. "Today."

Devon closed his mouth and sat silently, staring at Hermione.

"So, what should we do for the next three hours?"

"We should probably come up with a history. You know, how we met, what dates we've been on, what _happened _on those dates. I doubt she'll be very convinced if we're telling different stories."

He nodded. "Right."

~~~\~~~

Six hours later, Hermione and Devon made their excuses to leave Mrs. Winchester's home. Hermione cited needing to do some research, and Devon needed to get back to his flat. Mrs. Winchester agreed that it was getting late and showed them to the door.

She hugged her son and kissed him on the cheek.

"Devon, don't you stay up too late. You can't afford to be late to work."

Devon smiled and kissed her on her own cheek.

"I never do, Mum."

Then, to Hermione's surprise, his mother did the same to her. Hermione kissed her cheek automatically but smiled.

"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Winchester said warmly, "do feel free to visit often. And do keep me updated on when you start planning to move in."

Hermione blinked. "Move in?"

Mrs. Winchester patted her arm affectionately.

"Into Devon's flat, dear. You might need to get a bigger one. Lord knows it's small enough for only one person, but I wouldn't mind helping out with the cost for a while until you get settled."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell her it was _way _too soon for _anyone _to be thinking about that, but Devon made a frantic, silent beheading motion, and Hermione got the message.

"I promise, Mrs. Winchester-"

"Oh, _do _call me Edna," his mother interrupted, brushing some non-existent lint off of Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione paused, but kept her smile firmly in place.

"I promise, Edna, the _moment _Devon and I start talking about it, I'll let you know."

"Wonderful, dear! Well, off you go then!" She ushered them out and closed the door behind them.

Devon and Hermione started walking back toward the diner. When she felt they were far enough away, Hermione gave him a horrified look.

"Devon, I'm sorry to say, but your mother is a _sociopath_! She has absolutely _no _sense of other people's feelings!_ How_ did you turn out to be so sane?"

Devon cracked a smile. "Lots of women, and therapy. Lots."

She laughed.

"You think I'm kidding, Hermione, but I'm not. Seriously, like _hundreds_ of women, a few of which happened to be therapists, which is how I got free therapy..."

They talked and bantered the whole way back to the diner, where they had planned to part ways.

Devon turned to Hermione in front of one of the diner's windows and took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Hermione. Really. You don't know how much it means to me that you suffered for me."

Hermione smiled. "You know, your mum isn't _all _that bad..."

Devon stared at her, speechless.

Hermione burst out laughing, so he glared at her.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," she finally said. "Really, though. As horrific as it was, a lot of things seem much less scary now."

He raised an eyebrow. "Like John?"

She nodded. "Like John."

"You know, I still didn't really help you with how to handle him."

She smiled fondly at him because he looked a little guilty.

"Don't worry about it, Devon. I've dealt with him for nearly my entire adolescence, and he'll be gone in over a month, so one way or another I'll figure something out. At least I know _why _he's being such an arse, and I have you to thank for that."

He smiled. "Anytime."

Hermione leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Devon."

He grinned back at her. "Goodnight, Hermione."

~~~\~~~

When Hermione arrived back at the Manor, she felt tired. The fight with Malfoy, and then the retelling of it, not to mention Edna...it had been all too much for one day. It was still fairly early in the evening, but all she wanted to do was sleep. She didn't know what to do about Malfoy at the moment, so she was glad that he would be out of her room by the time she got there. She could plop on her bed, fall asleep, and deal with him later. Maybe when she woke up she'd know what to do.

So Hermione pulled herself up the main staircase and dragged herself along the hallway to her room. She opened the door and glared. _Of course. I should have guessed. Malfoy always was a pain in the arse, so it stands to reason he wouldn't stop now._

Hermione gathered the anger together and used it as an energy source, ready to tear Malfoy a new one for disobeying her.

"Malfoy!" she barked loudly.

The blond who had been napping on her bed opened his eyes and slowly sat up. He looked at the clock in her room and then back at her.

He glared. "Where have you been all day?" he demanded.

She almost thanked him - almost - for getting mad at her, because that only fueled her righteous indignation.

"That is _none_ of your business. What _is _your business is that I distinctly told you to get out of my room by the time I came home, and you are _still_ here! So _get out_!"

She turned to the side and pointed down the hallway for effect, stomping her foot.

He rolled his eyes. "Granger, that is beside the point. You told me you were going on a date. No date takes _eight_ bloody hours!"

She scoffed. "Maybe not _your_ dates. What _you_ consider a date is probably allowing the woman about an hour of talking your ear off before you seduce her and then leave. You're right, that doesn't take eight hours. And do you know why? _Because it's not a real date, you prick! _What _you_ do is called casual sex, not dating! You don't even _want _a real relationship! So don't you _dare _tell me what _is_ and is _not_ a date, because I can guarantee you, Draco Malfoy, you've _never been on one_!"

Suddenly becoming aware of her gradual increase in pitch, she stepped inside her room and quietly closed the door.

But Malfoy just sat on her bed and smirked at her, as if she were a little child throwing a tantrum over nothing.

"And how exactly would _you _know if I've ever been on a 'real' date?"

She rolled her eyes. "You just told me when you said that a date doesn't take eight hours, idiot. _Real _dates usually fill up an entire day. I would have stayed longer, but I was tired, and didn't feel comfortable sleeping over at his place. After all, according to you, I'm a loose tart who sleeps with any man who glances her way, correct? So surely, I couldn't trust myself to be alone with a man."

His smirk widened. "Correct. I'm glad to see you finally listened. You can be so stubborn that sometimes I consider giving up on you," he mock-sighed.

Hermione felt the rage boil inside her, and her wand hand twitched, aching to hex him seven ways to Sunday, but she also got the feeling that hexing him wouldn't be enough. She needed to touch him, strangle him with her own two hands, feel his heartbeat quicken beneath her fingers as he realized that she had every intent to murder him, sod the consequences. She would gladly go to Azkaban if she could just kill Draco Malfoy herself.

Blinded by the rage, she stomped her way over to him until she was standing right in front of him, glaring down at his smug face.

"I could kill you, you know, for everything you've done to me," she said quietly. "When I first learned about the Cruciatus Curse, I thought I would never be able to perform it, because I didn't hate people. I was raised to love, not to hate. Hate was an excuse for stupid people to act on their impulses without thinking about the consequences. But you, Draco Malfoy, have shown me what it is to hate someone, to want them to experience such utter pain and misery that they cannot escape it, and they'd rather tear themselves apart than to experience another second of it."

Malfoy raised his eyebrow at her impromptu speech, but gave no other indication of his opinion.

Hermione whipped out her wand and touched the end of it to his forehead, lightly pushing it against his skin.

"I know the incantation. Everyone does. I could say it right now and kill you. Just watch you tear yourself apart." She took a deep breath, her eyes locked with his. "I could do it," she whispered.

And then she lowered her wand to her side, still clutching it in her hand.

"But lucky for you, I'm not stupid. I know the consequences of that action, and let me be the first, although I'd be delighted if I'm not, to tell you." She bent down close enough that he could feel her breath on his face. "You're not _worth_ going to Azkaban for. If there ever were such a thing as a worthless, filthy Mudblood, _you _would be it. So I am going to tell you one more time, Malfoy. Get _out _of my room, and _stay _out. Any stupid fantasies you have of getting anywhere near me ever again are just that, stupid fantasies, things that will never come true. Don't you dare talk to me or look at me. I don't want to hear your voice or your name ever again. I will tolerate your presence as long as it takes for you to conclude your business with your aunt, but the moment it is finished, I want you _out_ of my life, for _good_. Any questions?"

"Yes, I have one," he replied just as softly.

"What?" she snapped, standing up straight again and fingering her wand, just in case he gave her a reason to use it.

"What will you do when I don't comply with your wishes?"

She narrowed her eyes. "And why _won't_ you comply with my wishes?"

"Granger, if you were going to hurt me you would have done so already. You aren't the type to drag it out, which means you're just trying to scare me off. You can't scare a Malfoy. _We_ do the scaring," he drawled. "So while I do appreciate you taking the time and effort to_ attempt_ to intimidate me, you failed. I'm not going to stay away from you just because you tell me to. You and I both know that's not what you want. So, if you are done, I'd like you to answer my original question, which, in case you forgot during your tantrum, was '_where_ have you been?'"

Hermione sighed tiredly, her posture sagging in defeat. Trying to reason with him was like repeatedly beating her head against a brick wall. He absolutely _refused_ to budge, so her rage just drained out of her, and with it her will to argue. Merlin, she just wanted to _sleep_.

"I already answered that question, Malfoy. You just didn't like the answer," she replied.

"And that was?" he asked impatiently.

"None of your business. What I do on my own time is my business _alone_. You have no say in it, and therefore you don't need to know. It's a very simple concept. I don't see how you could fail to grasp it."

He scowled. "I understand the concept perfectly. What I _don't_ understand is why you think you are correct, because you're not. As the person charged by my aunt to watch over you, it _is _my business where you are."

Hermione just stared at him for a moment and then laughed helplessly, throwing her hands up into the air. Now they were back to him getting in trouble for not keeping an eye on her. Her arguments with him just kept going around and around in one giant circle.

Surprisingly, laughing made her feel better, though. It gave her that careless feeling that told her to just give up trying to order him around and accept Malfoy as he was. This wasn't going to go anywhere until his questions were answered to his satisfaction, and he wouldn't stop bothering her until they were, anyway. She was done trying to control the conversation. She could try to assert her dominance as much as she liked, but Malfoy was having none of it.

After she conjured up a chair and sat down on it, she locked gazes with him and waited, slightly amused at the whole situation. After five minutes of staring, he raised an eyebrow at her, and she merely smirked at him. She knew how infuriating that smirk was to stare at, so she hoped it would annoy him just as much.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and her smirk grew. _You don't like it so much when it's directed at _you, _do you? I didn't think so._

Suddenly his expression was apathetic, and he dusted off an invisible piece of lint off of his leg.

"So, you agree with me then? It _is _my business where you are at all times," he drawled conversationally.

Her smug expression cleared as she stared at him seriously, arms crossed against her chest.

"No, I _don't_ agree with you. I'm no longer under the influence of the potion, and therefore I no longer need your guardianship."

His eyebrow raised delicately and smirked.

"And you consider threatening me with the Cruciatus Curse sane?"

"Yes," she replied bluntly. "You said it yourself, Malfoy. If I were going to hex you, I already would have. You witnessed my other fits. When I really got going, I needed intervention in order to stop. But that time I stopped myself. I _desperately_ wanted to hex you, but I didn't. I had full control over my body, and my emotions, which proves that I am no longer under another influence. Not even a little. Thus, your argument is invalid. You don't need to know where I am or have been because your services are no longer needed. So you can stop worrying about punishment now. You have no need to. In fact, tomorrow morning I'll inform your aunt myself that I am fully well again, and then she can officially let you off the hook, if you need a formal declaration."

Just when Hermione thought she was through with surprises for the day, Malfoy's smirk stretched into a wicked grin.

"Excellent. See that you do, Granger."

Then he stood up and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Hermione stared after him, wary and confused. She knew that grin. He smirked when he was plotting, but he grinned when that plot was moving along just as he had planned. Frankly, it worried her. She had expected him to be relieved, or maybe let it slip that he _wouldn't _stop worrying about her. But instead she got typical Malfoy, who _always_ had something up his sleeve.

_What was I thinking? All this talk of love has made me mental. I actually expected him to be something other than his usual snarky and scheming self. _She huffed at herself. _Some intelligence _I_ have. I suppose I should be thankful he's leaving it for another day._

Now completely exhausted, Hermione got up and plopped onto her bed without even changing her clothes. She fell asleep right there, on top of the duvet.

***/***

Draco couldn't wipe the wicked grin off his face if he wanted to, but he didn't really care to try.

At first he'd been skeptical when Granger claimed she wasn't under the influence of the potion any longer, especially after she had flipped out and threatened him with the Cruciatus Curse. He'd never admit it to her face, but he finally saw why Potter and Weasel obeyed her like lap dogs. When she had the mind to, she could personify reckless hatred, so much so that she had actually reminded him of his mother's late sister, Aunt Bella. Bellatrix Lestrange had been by far the most beautiful woman in Draco's extended family, but she had been ruthless and hateful to the core. Any love that she could have held for her family had instead been directed all at the Dark Lord. He had seen her around the Dark Lord multiple times, and she had acted just like a little girl who was desperate for her father's approval. Draco had thought his father had sunk low by joining the Death Eaters, but at least _he _had maintained some vague appearance of dignity in the Dark Lord's service. Aunt Bella hadn't even bothered to do that much. All she had cared about was torturing Mudbloods and making the Dark Lord pleased with her above all other servants.

It had taken Draco many years to see the situation for what it really was, mostly because he hadn't wanted to believe that nearly his entire family could be so incredibly dumb. But in the end, he was forced to accept the truth. Both the Malfoy and the Black families had preached blood-purity and honor and dignity, but in order to achieve said honor and dignity, they debased themselves to the point of willingly enslaving themselves to a half-blood. The irony had boggled Draco's mind, but he hadn't dared to bring up the subject to his father, who would have snapped, 'Don't question me! You're ungrateful for everything I've done for this family!'

After all, that was the Malfoy way. The patriarch of the family had full control over the rest of it, and Lucius Malfoy had been the official patriarch. Truthfully, his Great Uncle Titus was the _real _patriarch, but he had unofficially been disowned when he had married a half-blood, his now Great Aunt Morwena. After Draco had buried his father, he had become the patriarch, although there wasn't much family left by that point. Most of it had fought for Voldemort, and therefore ended up dead or imprisoned for life.

But Malfoys were good at adapting and surviving, so as soon as he had "seen the light" in Sixth Year, Draco had immediately gone to Dumbledore and pledged his allegiance. While he recognized he was, in a way, willingly enslaving himself to someone else, he also knew that Albus Dumbledore would never debase him the way the Dark Lord would.

He had had two choices: one, swallow his pride and disgust at being a servant and follow in his father's footsteps, or two, swallow his pride and disgust at working with The Golden Trio and help bring down his delusional family. There was no option three; his father had seen to that. Draco had made the mistake of letting slip to his father that maybe he'd rather not participate in the war at all, and might just hop a portkey to Switzerland or some random country that the Dark Lord didn't deem important. His father had sworn then and there that the second Draco was pronounced missing, the Dark Lord would proclaim him a traitor and deserter, which was the equivalent of working for Dumbledore. So, really, the decision had been quite easy. His inherent revulsion at his family's hypocrisy (and of course the knowledge that his "side" would kill him without even blinking) had overcome his conditioned disgust of the goody-goody Gryffindors, who would make every effort to keep _everyone _alive and safe - even him.

So now here he was, the beneficiary of most of the Death Eaters' considerable fortunes because hardly any of their written beneficiaries had survived the war. Most of it had somehow ended up in Narcissa Malfoy's hands since her husband was dead, and therefore, since she only knew how to spend money instead of earning it, she had given it all to her son.

The first thing he had done with the large sums of money was donate a small percentage of each (which had still turned out to be large sums of money) to charities, particularly ones who helped orphaned Muggle, Muggle-born, and Half-blood children. He had done this for two reasons. One, the previous owners would have turned over in their graves if they knew their money was helping "Muggle filth". Two, Draco had needed to do some drastic damage control to gain a reputation for himself apart from his father, especially because they looked so much alike.

The second thing he had done was clear out a few of the mansions and cottages, turning them into expensive resorts. While he was negotiating with his uncle's property lawyers, he was also out hiring employees and working with his own lawyers to draw up contracts. He had originally estimated to spend two months in total in his aunt's mansion, but he considered dragging things out just so he could spend more time around Granger.

This bloke of hers, Devon, had a fair advantage against him because he didn't have a bad history with Granger. But Draco had already seduced her to the point of wanting sex, so he was confident that, even without the potion in her system helping him out, he'd be able to do it again. And this time, he wouldn't stop her. He had fulfilled the first part of his promise to her - that he wouldn't take advantage of her while she was under the influence - but now it was time to complete the second part of it. She would give herself to him without outside coercion of any kind, and she would officially be _his_.

As confident as he was of his own abilities, however, he still needed to scope out the competition. He didn't know how far she and Devon had gone today. While he was positive Granger hadn't slept with him, since she hadn't stayed the night (for Granger just wasn't the type to have sex and then get up and leave), that still didn't stop her from kissing the bloke. Draco was sure he still had the upper hand overall, but if she spent a lot more time with Devon, and liked what she saw, he might have some serious competition sooner than he'd like. Therefore, the next time she went on a date, he'd have to follow her. Hopefully they would go somewhere crowded enough that he could easily eavesdrop, but not so crowded that he'd lose track of them.

~~~\~~~

**A/N2: **So, your suggestions were highly amusing, but I realized that my prompts last time, and thus your prompts to me, were too plot-driven to be of any real use in this chapter. Unless you count the fact that they made me laugh so hard I practically had a chemical-high from it and therefore was in a better writing mood. Anywho, this time I'm going to go back to the simple few words ad-libbing because that worked really well. Thus, please give me an adverb, an adjective, and a noise. Until next time, lovies!


	8. Step 7: Getting Caught

**A/N: **Hello lovies! I am terribly sorry you've had to wait this long for an update. The short version is that my uncle, who had been in the hospital for the last couple months, suddenly toppled over the Great Cliff of Life, but held on for another four days before his lungs succumbed to pneumonia and all the other infections he kept getting. He died at the age of 71, after smoking heavily for most of his life, so we've been rather surprised that he lived as long as he did. Fortunately, my aunt is taking it all much better than most people would because she's had time to get used to the idea and seen him suffer for so long. Also, my new compy finally came in but since the very day I got it, it has given me blue screens of death and frozen on me an average of once a day. Therefore, the last two weeks have been spent going to work and then coming home to stay on the phone for a couple hours each night, chatting with the IT people about how my new computer hates me. So, with my whole family coming over for the wake and the funeral, and my new compy being an insolent prick, and my birthday last weekend, I've been ridiculously busy doing everything but writing. Thankfully, this chapter was easy going as I only had to edit it six times before it was ready to go.

Anywho, onto the reviews!

**playwright82 - **Wow! Thank you! I'm really flattered that you wanted to finish reading that much! You're right, I won't give away any spoilers, but I'm glad you like Devon, and at least one of your ponderings will be answered this chappie! Don't you dare apologize for writing a long review! I LOVE long reviews, so feel free to write an essay if you have that much to say!

**Majority Leader - **Thank you! As a long-time reader of fanfics, I think that is a perfect way to explain one you really like, so I'm even more flattered! It really is rough, finding a fanfic that you want to stick with, so thank you so much for sticking with mine!

**L - **I am so glad you think so! That's exactly the kind of story I was aiming for, so I'm so happy you're enjoying it! Stay with me and there's a ton more hilarity to come!

**All my reviewers: **While the above people said something that gave me an uncontrollable urge to respond, I do want to take the time now to tell you that I appreciate each and every one of you taking the time to read and comment on my work. The death of my uncle has reminded me that sometimes you wake up and feel like you just don't appreciate some people enough while they're with you. I hope you know I love you all and every single review I read makes me happy, so please keep reviewing! And do feel free to continue giving me funny suggestions as the story progresses because even if I can't use them in a story, they're very entertaining to read!

But enough blabbering from me; I've made y'all wait long enough as it is. Here's the next chappie!

~~~\~~~

Step 7: Getting Caught

_Remember that bit I said about it only being a matter of time until your Malfoy caught you? I was completely serious. More often than not, he will catch you in a very literal and physical sense, whether that means you literally falling into his arms or him physically taking a hold of your arm and dragging you somewhere private. At this point, the chase has ended. He will claim his prize (you) by showing you exactly how much he likes winning via victory sex. If you have any backbone, you'll be offended on principle that he feels you are something to be won over by some manly display or another, but that doesn't mean you ought not reap the benefits of putting up with his chauvinistic whimsy. I also previously mentioned that Malfoys are magnificent lovers. I was completely serious then, too, as you will find out for yourself, assuming you've gotten this far in your courtship. Note well: Malfoys are legendary for their stamina, so be prepared for a sexual marathon that you will thoroughly enjoy until you are both literally rendered unconscious from exhaustion. Enjoy it. _

~~~\~~~

The next day, Hermione woke up earlier than usual, but didn't actually get out of bed until two hours later, when her stomach ordered her to eat. Truth was, she was afraid of what surprises were in store for her. She hadn't forgotten about Malfoy's reaction the previous night, and neither did she fancy getting out of bed to inevitably find out what he was planning. But her stomach kept incessantly growling at her, so she dragged herself out of bed.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she tried to decide what clothes she felt like wearing today. Her eyes caught sight of the hickey Malfoy had given her two nights ago. It was mostly faded due to the healing charms, but pink enough to indicate it had been there. Hermione blushed at the memory and decided she would wear a turtleneck again. Just to be safe, she cast a Glamour Charm to hide it.

She ate a leisurely breakfast by herself in the dining room while she read her first book of the day. After she was finished, she stared at her empty plate.

What did she want to do today? She was still waiting on St. Mungo's to go through the preliminary trials of her potion. She had asked Dopey if Professor Morgana was around, but he responded that she was out for most of the day, so she couldn't update her mentor yet. Eventually, Hermione decided to venture out to the diner again. She didn't expect Devon to be there, but maybe she could get to know Mona better. She seemed like a sweet woman, and maybe she could tell Hermione more about Devon. If he was going to pretend to be her boyfriend, she might as well learn as much information as she could about him.

On her way over to the Floo, she halted as the familiar rumble sounded throughout the room, meaning someone was flooing in. Hermione stepped aside, and mentally groaned as Malfoy stepped gracefully out of the fireplace. _I was so _close _to not seeing him at all today..._

She waited until he was busy dusting himself off to sneak behind him so she could leave as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, flooing was not an instantaneous procedure, so Malfoy merely grabbed her upper arm.

"And where are _you_ going in such a hurry?" he smirked.

She glared. "None of your business." She tugged on her arm and nearly succeeded in breaking his hold on it, but he tightened his grip.

His smirk transformed into the wicked grin that scared her so much.

"Ah, going on another date, then?"

It was as good an excuse as any. "Yes," she lied angrily, covering up her trepidation. "Now please let go before you give me a bruise."

To her surprise, he did let go. "My apologizes. I didn't intend to harm you," he replied seriously.

But the grin returned a moment later. "Wait a moment and I'll escort you. Missy!"

Hermione's jaw dropped in horror as he called for his personal house elf.

"Malfoy, you can't go on my date _with_ me!" she near-yelled guiltily. _Note to self: When Malfoy offers you a seemingly valid excuse, IT'S A TRAP!_

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her as his house elf appeared.

"Granger, I never said I would. I merely offered to accompany you to your destination. That's all."

Then he turned to his house elf. "Missy, fetch me my Muggle coat." Missy disapparated and reappeared a few moments later.

"But, it's in Muggle London," Hermione tried to reason desperately. "Surely you'd rather not hang around Muggles when you don't need to? And it always takes about an hour to walk there! Don't you have pressing business you need to attend to before then?"

He gave her an amused look as he fastened his coat.

"Alright, Granger. You caught me. I just want to get a glimpse of this bloke who's captured your heart so quickly. Luckily, all my meetings today were this morning, so I'm free the entire afternoon. Besides, wouldn't it be nice to have company for the full hour it takes to get there?" he grinned mischievously.

_Great. Now I have to find a way to contact Devon. I can't say he won't be there without admitting I lied about the date. And if I do admit that I lied, then Malfoy will probably do something obnoxious like suggest _we _spend the day together, and then follow me around. Fuck you, Draco Malfoy!_

Hermione sighed in defeat. She couldn't think of a logical reason why he couldn't walk her there, and he'd never agree to stay home just because she wanted him to.

"Fine. Come on, then. Just don't get lost," she huffed, moving to stand in front of the fireplace and grabbing some Floo Powder from the pot on the mantle.

~~~\~~~

An agonizing fifty-three minutes and fourteen seconds later (she counted), Hermione entered the diner with Malfoy in tow. She directed him to sit at her usual booth while she went up to the counter and ordered some tea. Fortunately, Mona was there and recognized her immediately.

"Hermione! How are ya?" she greeted enthusiastically.

Hermione couldn't help but smile. The woman's energy was infectious.

"Hi, Mona." She bit her lip and leaned over the counter a little, indicating for Mona to do the same. "Listen, would it be possible for me to contact Devon, right this second? Do you know his mobile number? I know it might be a lot to ask-" she whispered.

Mona grinned and waved away Hermione's explanation. "Of course. Devon and I have been friends for years. I'm sure he'll understand if it's something important. Let me grab something to write it down on..."

"Actually, I don't have one on me, so could you just dial it on yours, or a phone here?" Hermione added quickly.

Mona nodded. "I'll go get my purse. Just a moment." She bustled off to the kitchen.

"Chatting up the help?"

Hermione jumped and whipped around to glare at Malfoy.

"Don't _do_ that!" she snapped. "Go sit back down. The teas aren't ready yet."

He rolled his eyes at her commanding tone. "I'm bored. When is Devon coming?"

She huffed. "I'm going to call him right now to tell him we're early. So go _sit_ and be patient for once. Merlin, you're like a little boy. I should have brought toys to keep you occupied."

His interest peaked, a wicked grin formed on his lips. "What _sort _of toys?"

She smacked his arm. "Shut _up_, Malfoy." Gods, he made her such a violent person sometimes.

"Here, Hermione!" Mona chirped. She came back to the counter and dialed Devon's number, handing it over to her. She turned to Malfoy and paused a moment, before smiling again.

"Hello, can I help you?" she asked breathily.

Malfoy smiled charmingly back, leaning on the counter. "Actually, gorgeous, I think you can. Has Hermione ordered our teas yet?"

Mona faintly shook her head and immediately took the order, occasionally glancing back at Malfoy and blushing when she met his gaze.

Hermione held the phone tightly to her ear, praying to every deity she had read about that Devon would pick up and be able to meet them here soon. She glared at Malfoy's shameless flirting and made a mental note to lecture him on appropriate facial expressions in public. Just when her hopes had dropped into the Pit of Eternal Despair and she frantically tried to think of what she was going to do next, Devon picked up.

"Hello? Mona?" he sounded out of breath.

"Actually, it's Hermione. I'm using Mona's mobile. You're right, she's a real sweet girl. Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

"Oh, hey Hermione! Ya, I'm alright. I just didn't hear the phone until the last few rings because I was just in the shower," he explained, slowly gaining his breath back.

Hermione blushed. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

He laughed. "It's alright. How are you?"

Hermione glanced back at Malfoy, who was busy flapping his mouth. She snorted. _Oh, so it's okay for _him _to 'chat up the help'._ But at least Malfoy couldn't hear her, though she lowered her voice and turned around anyway.

"Listen, I was going to come down to the diner today to see if you were here, but John caught me and I lied, saying that we had a date today, so that he would go away. But that actually made him want to come so he could meet you, and I couldn't come up with a good excuse for him not to, so we're here at the diner now. Is there any chance you could hop over right now and pretend we had a date planned? I told him we were early, so he wouldn't get suspicious why you're not here, so you still have time if you need it."

"Oh, ya, sure! I'll throw on some clothes and head out. I should be there in about fifteen minutes. Will that be okay?"

Hermione sighed in relief. "Yes, that'll be great. Thanks so much."

"Anytime. See you in a bit." He hung up.

Hermione hung up her end and walked back over to the counter. Malfoy was still charming Mona, so she scowled. A sudden, wicked idea came to her. She smirked.

"_Hem Hem,_" she said in a high-pitched voice, mimicking a certain terrifying ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Malfoy quickly looked behind him. Hermione didn't miss the flash of dread on his face before his eyes landed on her. He glared.

She smiled cheekily. _Nobody _had been left unscarred by Dolores Umbridge's stay at Hogwarts in Fifth Year - not even the Slytherins of the Inquisitorial Squad - and Hermione felt no guilt in exploiting any of Malfoy's weaknesses.

"Glad I got your attention. Devon says he's stuck in traffic, but he should be here in about fifteen minutes."

Mona giggled. "Wow, he must really like you." Both Hermione and Malfoy looked at her expectantly, so she continued. "It's a lie. He doesn't even own a car. He only says that to girls when he's worried he might not be on time so they don't worry. It usually only takes him about ten minutes, so fifteen means he's pretty nervous about seeing you."

Hermione nearly gasped, which would have given away her fib, but she managed to control her expression in time to make it interested. She cleared her throat and put on a pleased smile.

"Really? That's a good sign, then, right?" _I am sooo lucky that's something he normally does_.

Mona smiled back and nodded. "No doubt about it."

Hermione, still fake-smiling, nervously glanced at Malfoy and felt a little reassured that he was scowling. Fortunately, Malfoy brazenly decided to interrogate Mona about Devon just as Hermione had planned to that morning. Of course, he did so in a much smoother way than Hermione could have ever done since he was an attractive male and experienced flirt.

"So, Mona." He flashed her his most ridiculously charming smile. Hermione silently and disgustedly noticed her melt on the spot. "You seem to be a rather good friend of this Devon bloke. Are you?"

Mona nodded dreamily at him. "Yes, you could say I'm one of his best friends," she gushed. "We've known each other practically forever."

"Good. You see, I'm very worried about the blokes Hermione gets mixed up with, so would you mind if I asked you a few questions about him? I just want to make sure he's a good bloke, you know? I don't want my Hermione to get hurt if I can help it; you understand, don't you?"

Mona looked even more taken with his 'sensitivity' and unreservedly answered his questions.

Hermione scowled, but felt a pleasing rush when he mentioned her as his. She couldn't watch this, though. If he sweet-talked Mona any more, she was going to swiftly vomit right on his immaculate, expensive coat. She looked around and suddenly noticed the place was empty. How had she not even noticed the five or so customers that had been in the diner had walked out? She walked around Malfoy and behind the counter to look into the kitchen. It was empty, too. She frowned. _Merlin, what did Malfoy do this time?_

She sighed and walked back around to Malfoy, tapping him on the shoulder.

He didn't break eye-contact with Mona, or stop his smile. "What, Hermione? I'm busy." Mona blushed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She badly wanted to know all the information he was extracting from her, but she strongly suspected he had cast a Muggle Repelling Charm, and that would repel Devon away, since he was a Muggle. She decided to just ask what she needed to and then yell at him for his complete lack of forethought later.

"You don't think Devon will suddenly remember an urgent appointment when he arrives at the diner, do you?" she asked meaningfully.

Malfoy paused. "Mona, would you mind making those teas for us? I'll be back in a moment. Hermione and I need to discuss something urgent. You understand, don't you?"

Mona nodded and smiled warmly. "Of course." She turned around and started humming to herself patiently.

Hermione grabbed Malfoy's arm and dragged him toward the door.

"A Muggle Repelling Charm, Malfoy?" she whispered harshly. "How _idiotic _are you? We're _waiting _for a Muggle!"

He rolled his eyes. "Relax, Granger. I'm aware of what it does." He waved his wand, muttering the counter. "There, all fixed. I just wanted to make sure Mona and I wouldn't be interrupted."

She narrowed her eyes. "You were keeping him away on purpose, weren't you?" she accused.

He shrugged, with a shadow of a smirk on his lips giving her an affirmative.

She sucked in a deep breath to control her building rage at his insolence.

"Your overwhelming petulance aside, you are at her _place of work_! You can't just send all the employees and customers away or prevent more from coming in! This is their _livelihood_, Malfoy! You _could _have just sat at the counter and talked with her between her duties like a _normal _person, you know. You gave me the impression that you had all afternoon free, so it's not like you're on a schedule!"

"Yes, but I don't have all _day_," he snapped back. "Besides, we _do _have a schedule if we want to be done by the time Devon comes."

Hermione huffed. "Just ask him the bloody questions yourself, then. You'll find out the answers one way or the other."

"Fine," he grunted.

"Fine," she agreed.

Their eyes remained locked in a staring contest until Mona announced that the teas were ready. They stepped away from the door, grabbed the teas, and plopped down into their booth. Gradually, several people came in, including the other employees who claimed they had taken a short break, and Hermione supposed no real harm had been done, but only just narrowly.

Malfoy smirked at her when he caught her gaze. She scowled and sipped her tea. They didn't even blink when a blaring police siren, an annoying bird call, or the pitter-patter of a sudden heavy rain against their window threatened to distract them.

After what seemed an eternity, Devon entered the diner. He greeted Mona and then walked over to Hermione's booth, his trainers squishing as he walked.

"Hermione, love!" he greeted. The huge smile he wore made him look rather handsome. She stood and blushed at the endearment. He kissed her chastely on the lips, causing her to blush further. He slipped an arm about her waist and pulled her against his side. He was pleasantly warm, so Hermione wrapped an arm around his waist, too, and leaned into him.

"Devon, this is Draco. Draco, this is Devon, my boyfriend." She didn't consciously know why she had introduced him as Draco instead of Malfoy, until she realized that she didn't want Devon to think she had been intimate with a man she was still on a last name basis with. _Yes, this is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, who has given me three magnificent orgasms and I still don't call him Draco._ _That sounds so very classy, doesn't it?_ She bit her lip, hoping she didn't screw this up. One slip and Malfoy would be on her like a niffler, sniffing out every golden lie she ever told him.

Fortunately, neither of the men were paying much attention to her. They were too busy sizing the other up.

Devon was the first to extend a hand by removing it from Hermione's waist.

"Draco, nice to meet you," he offered cooly, with a hint of a smirk. "I can't say I've heard many good things about you."

Hermione winced. _Uh oh. What have I gotten myself into? I can't even blame Harry for this. He's usually the one getting me and Ron into trouble with his hare-brained schemes, and I just tag along to make sure they don't get caught. Who's going to save _me _from getting caught?_

"Devon, the pleasure is all _mine_. I can't say I've heard much about you at all," Malfoy smirked, shaking Devon's hand with his own.

Hermione noticed the handshake went on a little too long, so they must have been trying to squeeze the life out of each other through their hands. As she suspected, their hands looked redder when they parted.

She frowned and worried her lip with her teeth, eyes darting back and forth between the two men, who just stared at each other unnervingly.

***/***

Draco smirked to indicate his superiority and immunity to intimidation.

While Devon had a pretty strong grip, he was a fair bit shorter, though not by much. Clearly Granger had been relating their issues to him, as Devon couldn't possibly already hate him unless she gave him reason to. And the hate was clearly there, in his eyes and in his body language.

The three sat down in the booth. Draco leaned back comfortably, one hand leisurely resting on his thigh and the other casually playing with the edges of a napkin on the table. He stared at Devon imperiously. Devon leaned back, too, but had his arm wrapped around Granger's shoulders, pulling her up against him, staring at Draco challengingly. Granger rested her head on Devon's shoulder, but was watching them both carefully, though Draco was certain she couldn't quite decipher the battle of wills that was occurring right in front of her.

Devon's body said, 'I've got what you want. Deal with it."

Draco's body said, 'You think you do, but I can snatch her away easier than you know.'

Mona obliviously interrupted their staring contest, smiling. "Can I get any of you something?"

She took their orders, and blushed when Draco gave her another attractive smile. He glanced back to Devon. His insides erupted with glee. If Devon hated him before, he absolutely _loathed _Draco now. Devon was scowling, and Draco was pretty sure he would have growled like a dog if the situation had allowed it. Draco merely raised an eyebrow and widened his smirk.

_Methinks I spy a bargain in our future regarding these two lovely ladies._

Draco was contemplating asking questions just to pass the time, but Mona returned quickly with their drinks, as the other customers had already been taken care of for the moment. Draco seized his chance as soon as she placed the drinks down on the table.

He leaned forward and placed his hand on hers. She jumped and her eyes immediately locked with his, her lips parting in surprise. Draco slid on a seductive smile.

"Mona, gorgeous, you've been working so hard all day," he coaxed. "Why don't you sit down with us for a while and relax?"

She hesitated, but was weakening fast. She glanced at Devon, then her serving tray, and then at him.

Draco sat up and gently took the tray from her hands, placing it on the table closest to them. He took her hand in his and held her gaze.

"Just for a little while, I promise. As soon as the food is ready, you can go back and resume your duties. But nobody needs you at the moment, and a beautiful woman like you deserves to rest for a while."

Mona looked down, smiling shyly, nodded, and then looked back up into his eyes.

"Alright. For a little while," she agreed softly.

Draco rewarded her with another smile. "That's my girl. Come, sit with me. In you go." He helped her slide into the booth next to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gently leaned her against him, in case she resisted. She didn't, but blushed like a tomato. She didn't lean her head against his shoulder like Granger did with Devon, but she did scoot a little closer to him.

To fill the silence, Granger started a conversation with Mona, who responded eagerly.

Draco grinned triumphantly at Devon, who squeezed Granger's shoulders a little too hard. Granger looked up with a question clear on her face, but he softened his hold and she relaxed again, continuing the conversation. Devon was glaring at Draco with a hate that rivaled Granger's that night before Graduation.

It was only a matter of time, now, but Draco decided to speed up the process a little. He waited for a slight lull in the conversation before he made his move.

"Say, Mona. What time do you get off work tonight?"

Granger shot him a disapproving glare and Devon clenched his jaw, but he ignored them.

Mona's cheeks had just returned to normal but now they flooded tomato red again.

"My shift ends in about thirty minutes, actually. I should really go check on that food."

"Of course," Draco nodded, smiling, and got out of the booth so she could slide out. Draco and Devon had another staring contest until Mona came back with the food.

Draco grabbed Mona's hand again so she locked her eyes with his and blushed.

"Mona, I was wondering, after your shift ends, would you-"

"Draco, may I speak with you in private, please?" Devon interjected loudly. Granger had slid out of his embrace, probably having noticed that he was getting more and more tense as time passed.

Mona looked startled, but Draco stroked the back of her hand.

"Don't you worry about a thing, gorgeous. I'll be right back." With another smile, she looked much calmer, and sat down to talk with Granger, who started eating.

Draco followed Devon into the hallway that led to the bathrooms. Devon yanked his arm so hard Draco nearly slammed into the wall, but Draco didn't mind so much because he knew the cause of it.

"Name your price," Devon ground out.

Draco smirked and leaned sideways against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

"Hermione," he replied simply.

Devon breathed deeply to control himself, and settled for a hard glare.

"Fine. You win. I'll back off. Just don't you dare lay a hand on Mona again, got it? She deserves so much better than you and your touchy-feely manipulations. Deal?" He held his hand out.

Draco nodded, still smirking, and shook his hand. "Deal." They couldn't help but have another go at each other, but calmed down soon enough.

Draco tried to pull his hand back, but Devon held on, giving him a grim stare. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Draco," he said seriously. "Hermione's a tough woman, but she's still human. If you keep throwing her around, she's going to break like a derelict wooden box. Even she can only take so much, and then there'll be nothing left to cherish. Get your own emotions in order before you mess with hers, alright? If Hermione comes running to me about how you broke her, I'm going to find you and beat your arse to a bloody pulp, got it?"

Draco nearly laughed in Devon's face. _Beat _my _arse to a pulp? Not bloody likely._ But the message was still there. Granger had complained to him because Draco was being too harsh with her, since he was conflicted himself. Don't drag her into his own battles. Fight the battles first, and then allow her in during the aftermath so she can nurse him back to health.

"She cares about you, you know," he continued, when Draco didn't respond. "_Really _cares. I'm willing to bet you wouldn't have gone through all this trouble if you didn't care, so just be careful. Don't make her think she had a chance at being with you if you're not ready for it. I don't know if you'll actually heed my advice, but just tell her what's going on in that blasted head of yours that's making you so schizophrenic. She can't help you if she doesn't know what the problem is."

Draco smirked and nodded. "I'll listen if you listen to some of my advice in return."

Devon raised his eyebrow.

"Just bloody shag already. Just watching the two of you make eyes at each other is so sweet it makes me want to retch. You want her, she wants you. Just do it." Draco snapped, exasperated.

Devon laughed tightly. "Will do."

They went back to the booth. Draco let Devon go first so he could shove him in Mona's direction. Devon stumbled, but caught himself on the table before he hurt something.

Mona let out a cry of dismay and scooted closer to him to check on him.

"Are you alright Devon?" she asked.

Devon grinned sheepishly and glanced at Draco, who gave him a smirk. He focused back on Mona.

"That depends. Will you go out with me tonight? On a date?"

Mona gasped as her hand flung up to her chest, staring into Devon's eyes.

"Yes!" she breathed. She jumped up and hugged him. "I thought you'd never ask!" she squealed and then kissed him, full on the lips, which Devon eagerly responded to. Everyone else in the diner clapped and whistled.

Draco looked at Granger, watching her stare at the new couple like a typical witch, crying and clapping at how sweet and perfect an ending it was. He rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm.

"C'mon, Granger. It's time to go home."

Too startled to respond properly, she allowed him to lead her out of the diner, still glancing back.

***/***

It had been, by far, one of the weirdest dining experiences in Hermione's life. When she had imagined Devon and Malfoy meeting, she hadn't really known exactly what to expect. Maybe they would chat pseudo-amiably, or maybe they'd outright snarl at each other, but she expected veiled insults somewhere, and lots of them. That's what Malfoy excelled at.

But what actually happened was literally the last thing she had expected. She hadn't even considered the option that they would be completely, utterly _silent_. The _whole _time, practically. It had scared her thoroughly. It looked like they were having an entire conversation just _staring _at each other, but she also had the feeling that her presence was the only thing keeping them from an all-out manly brawl right there. Or maybe they _had _been brawling and she just hadn't noticed. Was there such a thing as mental brawling?

The silence had been torture because she was so worried. She had no clue what was going on between them. Eventually, Malfoy invited Mona to sit down and join them, and Hermione had been so thankful for someone to talk to. But it also made her worry more. Malfoy wouldn't have been so nice to Mona for no reason. Obviously Mona was part of whatever mental brawl had been going on at the time. And Mona, bless her heart, had been completely oblivious to it all.

Fortunately, in the end, she supposed it all worked out. Then again, she hadn't even been officially dumped before Devon asked another woman to jump into his arms, but since it had been a fake relationship from the start, she supposed she could let it slide. She always had been a sucker for happy endings.

~~~\~~~

When she and Malfoy arrived back at the manor, Hermione didn't quite know what to do with herself. It was almost dinner time, but she had just eaten, so she wasn't hungry. She was too riled up from the day's events to consider sitting down and reading. There was too much on her mind. Too much to process. She felt like she needed to sleep, but it was far too early.

"Follow me, Granger," Malfoy ordered abruptly.

For lack of anything else to do, Hermione followed. In her normal state of mind, those three words in that sequence would have sent off alarm bells ringing in her head. Actually, they probably _had _rung, but she hadn't heard them with everything else going on in her mind at the time.

He led her up the main staircase, down the hall, and into her bedroom.

"Sit." He pointed at the edge of her bed, and she sat, staring up at him curiously.

He conjured up a chair for himself and sat down across from her, not unlike the positions they had been in the previous night, but reversed.

"Explain," he demanded, glaring at her. His arms were set firmly across his chest, daring her to lie to him.

She stared at him, confused. "Explain what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll start by telling you what I know, and you fill in the rest. Fair enough?"

She nodded, still confused.

"I _know _that you and Devon never had a serious relationship. You _pretended_ to have a real relationship because...?" he prompted angrily.

Hermione blushed under his intense gaze and stared at the floor. How much should she admit?

"Because I was helping him with his mother. She's hounding him about settling down and he didn't want to, although I suppose now he does with Mona, so I pretended to be his girlfriend to get her off his back."

"And?"

She rolled her eyes, thinking of how Devon had said the same thing when he tried to drag information out of her.

"And what?"

He scoffed. "Granger, don't insult my intelligence. That doesn't explain why you told _me _you had a boyfriend."

She bit her lip. "In case you got involved and needed to be a witness for his mother?" she offered unconvincingly.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" he shot back.

"...Telling you?" she replied hesitantly, picking at a loose thread in her duvet.

"Granger," he warned.

She still didn't dare look up at him. "I don't know; it was Devon's idea. Ask him."

Malfoy sighed. "You are the poorest liar I've ever met. And that's _including _Neville Longbottom."

She finally lifted her head and glared at him for the slight. She considered trying to distract him by defending Neville's honor - while he had been a klutz at school, Neville had certainly gained confidence and come into his own with every passing year - but she decided that Malfoy would recognize the attempt immediately and simply put the conversation back on track. So instead she defended her own honor.

"It _was_ Devon's idea," she countered.

"Even so, you _do _know why. I highly doubt Hermione Granger would go along with such a scheme without knowing the reason for it."

She sniffed indignantly. "Well, if _you're_ so bloody intelligent, then why don't _you _tell _me _the reason." Hermione knew this conversation wasn't going to last forever, but she vaguely hoped she could throw Malfoy off her scent somehow, though she doubted it. They'd been chasing each other in circles for far too long now.

Malfoy studied her for a while. Her courage failed her under his intense gaze again, so she stared back at the floor and continued picking at the loose thread.

"I do have a theory," he confirmed at length. "But you're not going to like it."

"Good," she huffed. "All the more reason for me to tell you it's wrong."

She was very aware that her words would have more effect if she actually looked at him while she said them, but she ignored the thought and focused more intensely on the thread.

"Alright, then." She heard the smirk in his voice, and feared looking at him more than ever. He paused dramatically.

"You pretended to be Devon's girlfriend to make me jealous."

She stayed silent, knowing immediately that any way she tried to twist it, he'd see right through it. He was a master at twisting words, so he knew how to untwist them just as well. It used up all her concentration to keep picking at the thread and _not _let her face give her away.

"Well? Go ahead, Granger. Tell me I'm wrong," he prodded.

_Well, bollocks. Stupid Draco Malfoy. He knows me far too well. If I stay silent, it will confirm his theory. If I lie and say he's wrong, he'll know I'm lying and it'll confirm his theory. If I say yes, that obviously confirms his theory. There's just no winning this one, is there? Fine, but nobody will say I went down without a fight. _

Hermione gathered her anger and her courage, and drew upon all of it to raise her head, look Malfoy in the eyes, and say, without a single crack in her voice, "You're wrong."

All things considered, it was the most believable lie she ever told - delivery-wise, anyway. He already knew the truth, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to do her best to make him second-guess it for a moment.

He didn't say anything for several moments, still studying her face. She mentally rejoiced. Even if he _wasn't_ second-guessing himself, she was going to pretend he was, just so she could say that her most beautiful lie wasn't told in vain. She'd swear on her deathbed that for that one moment, she had made Draco Malfoy unsure of himself, and she would cherish that lie forever, never questioning it. She might even make a plaque to remind herself, in case she started to lose her memory in her old age. Because then, she wouldn't know it was a lie. She'd believe it because the plaque told her it had happened, and she'd be proud. And her children would be proud, too. They'd say, 'Oh, yes, Hermione Granger's my mum, and she made that evil, slimy snake Draco Malfoy second-guess himself this one time. We have a plaque all about it at home. She's my hero!' And their children would fight about it at school. His children would tease her children for their bushy hair, and her children would retort, 'Oh ya? Well, my mum made your dad unsure of himself, so _there_!' And his children would have nothing to say because everyone believed it was true, and it would shame them-

Her mental rambling faltered and vanished from the sound of Malfoy's footsteps. She watched him approach her and bend down.

"Liar," he accused softly.

And then he kissed her.

One of his hands slid up her neck to cradle her head and the other dived into a mass of her bushy hair, holding it back so it wouldn't impede the fusion of their lips.

She felt Malfoy's lips part to make way for his tongue, so she didn't even wait for it to press against her lips. She opened them immediately, and his tongue slid directly inside, seeking her own.

Hermione knew this was it. This was the night. No more distractions. No more stopping. No more holding back. They didn't love each other, but one day they might. And that was enough for now. For now, their bodies craved each other, and demanded gratification. They would no longer be denied.

The knowledge that they were finally about to release the sexual tension that had clung to them as stubbornly as a bad smell made her feel powerful. His kiss was just barely controlled, conjuring an image in her mind of another universe, or maybe just another place and time.

She imagined him in a Slytherin silver dress shirt that matched his eyes, and herself in a Gryffindor red dress, skin-tight and strapless above the waist, but knee-length and flowy below. She imagined him leading her into a medley of erotic dances as she matched him step for complicated step in her stiletto heels. Some people referred to dirty dancing as 'sex standing up'. With Malfoy's smooth confidence and predatory stare, she could easily see herself losing all control with him, doing anything and everything she had never allowed herself to think about except for when she lay in bed alone. She could see herself enacting all those positions she read about in her secret romance novel collection, which she had glamoured to look like textbooks in school. Only Draco Malfoy could convince her to wear a dress, knickerless, and have sex standing up. Only he could give her that sexual thrill that was so overwhelming that she wouldn't give a damn who was just outside or who could come in and see them.

Drunk off of his tongue and her own mental foreplay, Hermione decided to take control of the situation and put her full effort into getting the most out of the experience. She slid her hands up to Malfoy's face, then back to his neck, and up to his hair. When she had them planted firmly behind his head, she pulled it toward her as she wiggled her way backward on the bed, stopping only when they were sitting in the middle of it.

He smirked against her mouth as he followed her. "Impatient?" he murmured.

She grinned wickedly. "Shut up and help me undress," she commanded breathlessly.

He chuckled, but did as directed. He managed to get her down to her bra and underwear before she started working on his clothes. For the sake of efficiency, he helped her get rid of all his clothing first before finally removing the rest of hers.

When they were both finally naked, Hermione pushed lightly on his chest, telling him to wait a minute.

"Ughh!" he half-sighed, half-growled in frustration. "What _now_? I swear, Granger, if you bail on me again-"

She ignored him. Leaning over and rummaging through her clothing, she let out a small "Eureka!" when she pulled her wand out from the pile. She pointed it at her abdomen, whispered a contraception spell, and then dropped it back onto the pile.

Malfoy shut up and grinned appreciatively for her forethought since his brain was clearly not functioning to its fullest capability at the moment. She returned his grin, wrapped one hand around his neck, the other arm around his back, and yanked him down on top of her. She moaned at the warmth, and Malfoy attacked her lips, coaxing her tongue to play with his again.

She felt his hands slide all over her naked skin, and reveled in every second of it. His hands found her breasts first, and he broke their kiss to pay their due attention to them, making her moan loudly. Next, his hands slid down to her legs. One hand caressed the outside of her thigh while the other slid between their bodies and found her clit.

She gasped as he brushed his moistened fingers against it, and whimpered as he applied more pressure to it. One of her hands found his member and started pumping it.

Malfoy hissed and removed his hand on her thigh to pull off her hand on his member.

"Granger, if you keep that up, there won't be a grand finale. I'm trying to be generous here, but you're not making it easy," he scolded.

Hermione giggled. She leaned up next to his ear. "Sorry," she responded huskily, not sounding sorry at all. "I thought the whole _point_ was to make it _hard_."

"Minx," he growled, shoving her flat on her back. She giggled and reached for him again, provoking him. He stopped her and then leaned down, lightly brushing his lips against hers. She opened them in expectation, but he backed off and moved them to her ear.

"You want me, then?" He felt her nod. "Be careful what you wish for."

He positioned her hips where he wanted them, and held them down in place. In one swift thrust, he sheathed himself inside of her. Her hips tried to buck up, but his hands didn't let them.

Hermione let out a frustrated sound and glared at him.

"_Move_ it, Malfoy!" she ordered.

He smirked and started moving, but at a torturously slow pace.

"Good things come to those who wait," he whispered.

She growled and sat up violently, breaking his hold on her hips. She pounced on him so that he rolled under her and she landed on top of him. She yanked his head up to kiss him and, when his upper body followed enough that he was sitting upright, she used his shoulders as support so she could impale herself on him. She moaned into his mouth and started moving, gradually building up speed.

Malfoy's hands automatically grabbed onto her hips to help with the momentum, which earned him another long moan as she rode him. Eager to help, Malfoy smirked as one hand slid down and found her clit again, rubbing it just the way he knew she liked it.

Hermione tore her mouth from his with a whimper and rode him faster, angling herself so that his fingers and member stimulated her in tandem on her downstroke.

A minute later she came apart, screaming his name in bliss, with Malfoy releasing soon after hers with his own grunt. She eventually loosened her deathgrip on his shoulders, but they kissed lazily, with him still inside her, both catching their breath as their heart rates started to slow.

"You're right, you know," she commented breathlessly.

He raised an eyebrow for her to continue.

"Good things do come to those who wait," she grinned cheekily, "but better things get taken by those with initiative."

He chuckled and kissed her, long and slow. Then he moved to her neck and down to her breasts.

She moaned wantonly and then gasped. "Mr. Malfoy!" she mock-reprimanded primly. "I _do _believe that something is growing inside of me!"

He grinned wickedly. "Is it perhaps your need to be shagged again?"

She laughed then, full and loud. She lightly slapped him on the arm.

"You're _incorrigible_," she complained fondly.

He smirked in response and kissed her, making her moan and grind against him. He held her as close to him as possible with one arm and then used his other arm to roll them over onto her back without him sliding out of her.

"Now then, are you going to be _patient_ this time, Miss Granger?" he asked seductively.

She grinned back slyly. "Maybe. Are you going to give me a reason to? If you don't _perform _well, then I may have to take matters into my own _hands_ again."

"Minx," he growled for the second time, and attacked her body with his.

**A/N2: **Now, in case some of you are getting the silly idea that this story is over, far from it! In some ways, the story is just starting! For next time, give me a picturesque landscape (i.e. environment) and an animal or plant.


	9. Step 8: Allowing the Illusion

**A/N: **Hello again, lovies! I just want to mention that this is the last of my pre-written chapters. I have some good ideas for the next couple chappies, so I might be able to put those together in one week, but I can't guarantee it. I might only be able to update once every two weeks, depending on if the ideas flow out of my head the right way on the first go, and if I can stay motivated to write most nights. I know this is going to sound like begging, but I'm going to say it anyway because it's true. It really does motivate me every time I read a review, so every review counts. The best part of my week is coming home from work the day after I posted, knowing there are so many reviews waiting to be read. I love reading your input and comments on the chapters, so please don't hesitate to write me a line or twenty!

Speaking of **Reviews:**

**viola1701e - **As you'll see in this chapter, yes, yes he does. I'm so glad you mentioned Professor Morgana, Narcissa, Harry and Ron, because this is the last chapter that will have Hermione and Draco in their own little bubble. From here on out, Hermione will start having more contact with her friends, though you'll have to stay tuned to see how. As for Morwena and Narcissa, they will play a very important part, as you've guessed, but I have yet to decide if it's going to be sooner rather than later. Would you rather me focus more on Harry, Ron, and Ginny, or bring in Narcissa and Morwena soon? Everyone can let me know what think about that, since the next chapter isn't concrete yet.

**Kermit304 - **Thank you! I admit I was a little worried I might have been over-explaining the battle between the boys, but if you liked it as it was, then I shall not change a thing. Thank you for letting me know!

**nikif**** - **At first I was concerned I might not be able to find a place for the plant you mentioned because it was so specific, but I did eventually get inspiration enough to sneak it in, so thank you for suggesting it. It kept me entertained by forcing me to do some research on it, and I learned a decent amount about the whole Smilax family in the process. Also, you don't know this about me, but if someone writes/says something in another language in front of me, I get this unquenchable desire to know what was said that bothers me until I translate it myself or forget about it. In your case, I found a good online French-English dictionary and came up with a translation I think makes sense. You can tell me if I'm right or not. You wrote: "et comme je suis française, une pointe de mot doux soufflé à l'oreille rend la chose plus divine." I translated to: "and as I am french, a hint of sweet word breathed into the ear yields the thing most heavenly." Am I close? Please tell me! I haven't taken a single French class in my life, so I could be completely wrong.

**Booklover9477**** - **Yay! I'm so glad you liked it. Honestly, the interactions between Hermione and Draco are what drew me to the pairing in the first place, and firmly keep me a devout Dramione shipper. They're both so witty and opinionated that there's too much good material to work with to ignore. They could argue literally about anything and everything! I bet you could give them a completely harmless word like "waffles" and they'd find a way to argue about it, whether it's what topping is best or where they originated. Reading Dramione banter just makes me smile, so I'm glad I can make you smile, too! And yes, there is plenty more plot to come!

**bea bianca - **Well, thank you for reading and reviewing! Honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you don't read the original. It might be too heartbreaking for you to get invested in it and then get to the last posted chapter just to get frustrated because it never got finished. I absolutely _love _the feeling of falling in love with a story, so it makes me so happy to know I could do that for you! I know what you mean. I have a whole folder devoted to fantastic Dramione fics I want to read again, and the number is so small compared to how many fics I've read over the years. I intended to make this fic meaty and juicy 'cause those are the stories I like best. So I promise I will keep it that way! Feel free to let me know if you think I'm slacking off in that department, because I want this story to be good the whole way through!

**yellowzinnias - **Wow, thank you so much! I admit I have been curious about the Julia Quinn novels. It's one of those things that I've wanted to try but never got around to, so maybe next time I'm at the bookstore I'll pick one up. Do you have any specific recommendations? I know _exactly _what you mean! I read this one story where Lavender challenged Hermione to an erotic dancing contest atop the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall during lunchtime. Naturally, Hermione won because she's awesome, but at the same time I couldn't help but think that Hermione just isn't that coordinated. I mean, she can't _actually _be good at everything because then she'd be a boring Mary Sue. And Mary Sue-ism aside, Hermione would _never _do that in public, no matter how provoked. She's way too self-conscious for that in my opinion. So, it was a fun read because I was in the mood for something different at the time, but it wasn't realistic _at all_. Yay! Yes, please don't give up quite yet! There are good stories out there; you just have to keep looking! I can even recommend a few of my favorites in a pm if you're interested. Hee Hee. Yes, I am female, by the way. Here's another chappie for you!

**Banana101 - **As I said above, each and every review makes me happy, so thank you for reviewing! I can certainly include more Devon and Mona if you'd like!

**theonethatlived**** - **Thank you! Diablo-lessness? Blasphemy! Physics, ew. Though I'm biased because my Advanced Physics teacher was a super-nice guy but a terrible teacher, so I gave up on trying to understand it after that.

**L - **Thank you so much! Hopefully you'll like this chappie, too!

~~~\~~~

Step 8: Allowing the Illusion

_Malfoys, like all proud bachelors, delude themselves that they are not in love. Whenever they feel themselves falling into the trap, i.e. when they can no longer fight the desire to get you into their beds, they will try their best to create the illusion that the attraction is purely physical. Why they do this, we sensible women will never know. Suffice it to say that Malfoys, being the mule-headed males that they are, will try their best to convince themselves, and you, that all they want is sex. I suggest that you allow this illusion so that you can take full advantage of the benefits. There is no reason to deny yourself the best sex of your life simply because he refuses to profess his undying devotion to you. You will be in for a rough ride, however, when your Malfoy can no longer deny the extent of his feelings for you. But take heart in that, eventually, fighting all the way, he will finally give in to the truth, whatever it may be._

~~~\~~~

The next month felt like a blur to Hermione, a haze of worrying about her potion's trials at St. Mungo's and Malfoy's attempts to shag the worry out of her every chance he got. After the first week of almost non-stop shagging, Hermione confessed to him she was concerned that they might have accidentally ingested a very powerful lust potion featuring _smilax myosotiflora_. Malfoy merely smirked and used the following week to engage her in several experiments, in which he employed logic as well as his expertise, to prove otherwise.

By the end of March, Hermione was certain that Malfoy could very easily shag her to death, as there were no signs of his insatiable libido waning anytime soon. But she wasn't necessarily going to do anything about it, given that she was still relishing every second of their adventures.

There was something very curious about this new development in their relationship, however. When Malfoy wasn't in her knickers or passed out in exhaustion, he was hardly ever at the manor. At first, Hermione had chalked it up to him doing the business he was here to do, negotiating about his great-aunt's assets, which was fine with her. But it didn't change. It wasn't so long ago that Malfoy had set aside whole days to follow her around and bother her, yet suddenly, as soon as they became frequently physical, he was out and about every moment of his spare time.

Granted, Hermione had to admit that they spent a fair amount of time each day together, so it wasn't quite that he was avoiding her. Instead, it was as if he was avoiding the result of their actions when they weren't fornicating on various pieces of furniture and sundry surfaces. It was as if he had suddenly severed all emotional connections aside from lust. She had never realized how emotionally connected they had been until he removed that aspect of their relationship completely. On the one hand, it wouldn't be healthy to base an emotional connection for a relationship on past hatred and a constant desire to insult each other. On the other hand, wouldn't having _an _emotional connection be better than completely lacking one?

It was a question that had been aimlessly bouncing around in her head for the last month, yet she never found the time to ask him his opinion. Partly because he was far too adept at turning her into a nymphomaniac with a mere touch, and partly because she had never experienced this type of sexual thrill with anyone else, so she wasn't exactly keen on bringing up anything that might make it stop.

On a dreary Wednesday evening, she was trying to get into a large book on French Polynesian plants and their origins, particularly focused on whether they would make good potions ingredients, but she only managed a couple chapters about the Red Ginger Lily before her thoughts found their way back to Malfoy. They were both being extremely selfish, she finally decided. Malfoy wanted sex without the obligations the label 'boyfriend' entailed, and she wanted all the pleasurable feelings his attention evoked. Especially the fantastic orgasms, naturally.

But, of course, she knew it wouldn't be enough for much longer. While the retelling of her love life couldn't even be considered a short essay, it was still long enough for a short answer. She had enough experience to know that she would never be satisfied with only sex, just like she hadn't been satisfied with only emotion. She wanted them both. She wanted it all.

So was the sex good enough to keep pretending that she didn't want it all?

Yes, yes it was. But that didn't stop her from wondering how it would finally end. Malfoy wasn't the type to let go of a good deal when he had it. If he ended it, it would be to move on to the next woman and more fantastic sex. But Hermione wanted more than that. She didn't want to move from bloke to bloke like she were vacationing in the south of France, fully expecting to never see them again.

Come to think of it, was there even a chance that Malfoy would want to be eternal shag-buddies? She assumed he would eventually get bored with her and then move on. But what if _she _were the one to move on? Would he get jealous again? Would it drive him to finally admit that he liked her for more than just her body?

Probably not. It would send him into another rage and he would likely manipulate every possible rival into giving up. He was possessive like that.

Of course, it was incredibly wishful thinking to hope that he would admit his feelings, whatever they were. Thanks to Devon, it was exceedingly obvious that Malfoy wanted her for more than just sex, yet she couldn't for the life of her puzzle out how he continued on, oblivious to his own feelings. Or worse, he recognized his feelings but ignored them, waiting for the day he didn't feel them anymore. But what could he possibly gain from that? He knew that she was already falling for him, right? Then again, he was a bloke...

The loud boom of the dining room doors closing jerked Hermione from her reverie. She twisted around in her chair and felt blood rush to her cheeks.

Malfoy quickly scanned the room and smirked at her. "Waiting for someone?"

Hermione turned back around and stared back at her book. "Your aunt. She said she'd be down in a minute."

"And how many minutes ago was that?" he asked, amused.

She shrugged. "Twenty, maybe?"

"My money's on that monstrosity of a cat you used to own. She'd coddle him for all eternity if she had her way."

She shot him a glare at his unkind reminder of her former pet's abandonment. She suddenly remembered why she had fought her attraction to him so much. _Any_ sort of relationship with him, sexual or otherwise, was bound to drive one to homicide. Nothing stopped him from being a git.

"Right, then. I'll just take dinner in my room, since there's no need for me down here," she replied haughtily, snapping the book closed and standing up to leave.

As she expected, he moved in front of her to counter said exit attempt. "That particular conclusion happens to be erroneous," he corrected airily.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, and then parted her lips in realization when he sent her a wicked grin. She blushed and wet her lips, avoiding his gaze. She clutched the book tightly against her chest.

"Oh."

He chuckled. "I find it incredibly amusing that you still pretend you don't want me as much as I want you. You do realize it only makes me want to push for more, don't you?"

Her eyes shot back up to his and narrowed. "I don't _pretend_ anything, Malfoy. I simply choose _not_ to flaunt myself like a common tart."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I _were _a tart, you wouldn't be able to afford me. You ought to be grateful I don't charge you for my services."

It was as perfect an opening as she was ever going to get, so, in a fit of rage, she took it.

"Then perhaps I don't require your _services _after all!" she huffed, storming off around him to get to the door.

His hand shot out to stop her before she reached the door and he sighed. "Granger, when are you finally going to accept that you can't resist me? You tried that already, remember?" he drawled.

She whipped around and gave him a death glare. "This isn't about resisting you, Ferret. This is about self-respect. I refuse to have relations with someone who deems it appropriate to insult me whenever he's feeling particularly witty!"

All light-hearted pretenses disappeared in an instant. "I believe _you _implied I was a tart first," he replied coldly.

"You conveniently forget that was _after _you so kindly reminded me that my cat _abandoned _me for someone else."

He studied her for a long moment then. "This isn't about me insulting you; I've always done that. This is about something else, isn't it?" he declared.

Her moment of hesitation was enough.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, gently grasped her arm, led her back to the chair she had vacated, and sat down in the chair next to hers. He leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest, and stretched out his legs.

"Alright then. Out with it. What's got your knickers in a bunch?"

She merely pursed her lips and glared at him, holding her book tighter to her own chest. She only pretended to be mad enough to give him the silent glare. In truth, she really didn't know what was going on. She didn't want to give him up, yet she was simultaneously disgusted with herself for settling for an emotionless relationship when sex was supposed to be about passion and _love._ She almost wished that he had been immature enough to keep taunting her so she could slap him and storm out. That's what the younger Malfoy would have done, so she didn't fail to notice that he had come a long way from being that boy.

She didn't dare try to break off their..._fling_, but the chances of Malfoy wanting to be her boyfriend were negative. It was so unlikely, it defied the laws of probability. How could she even begin to say that without sounding desperate for a boyfriend, or for him?

She couldn't, so she continued to glare at him for being so difficult.

***/***

He stared back unflinchingly. "Granger, my meetings have all concluded for the day, so I assure you I could spend _all day _here. You might as well start talking."

Granger shifted uncomfortably in her seat before holding herself still and looking elsewhere.

This was precisely why he didn't want a girlfriend. They always brought up some drama that was completely melodramatic and unnecessary, dragging him into it just because they could. Granted, he never took Granger for the sort, but he did know that she nagged a lot, so clearly she _was_ female.

"I'm not happy," she said abruptly, placing her book on the table.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I got that from your general demeanor," he drawled.

She sighed in irritation. "No, I mean with us. This..._thing_, whatever it is. I'm not happy with it. I've already wasted enough breath saying I don't want you, so fine. I admit it. I want you still. But I can't just have casual sex like you can!" Her voice got more and more confident as she went on, gradually increasing in volume. She rose from her seat and started pacing.

She glared at him accusingly. "Call me a stereotype if you wish, but I can't have a sexual relationship without emotion, and it seems like you've been emotionally avoiding me every chance you get. You come home, seduce me, and then either sleep and leave before I'm up in the morning, or you just get up and leave then! What am I supposed to think, Malfoy? What am I supposed to do? Just pretend you actually feel anything for me? You make me _feel _like a tart. _That _is what's bothering me!"

Draco laughed. "Granger, you are anything _but _a tart. You do realize how long it took me to persuade you to this point? You weren't easy in any sense of the word."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not the point. The point is I _am _at this point and I feel...I feel..._dirty _and _used_. Like I'm some handkerchief you stow in your pocket and then take out briefly only when you need it. I want a _full _relationship, and if you can't give that to me, then I don't see the point in continuing this."

He narrowed his eyes. "Or what? You're going to find someone else?" he sneered.

Just the thought of her denying his claim was filling him with rage. She was _his_, dammit. He thought he had been making that perfectly clear. She didn't want anyone else, and to be perfectly honest, neither did he.

She raised her chin defiantly. "Yes. If you can't give me what I need, then I'm going elsewhere. Simple as that."

"Simple as that," he repeated softly.

He stood up and swiftly moved in front of her, gathering her into his arms. She let out a surprised noise that struck him as possibly the cutest sound he had ever heard.

"You are _mine_, Granger. No one else's. I don't share," he nearly hissed into her ear. He tightened his hold on her as it crossed his mind that she might be entirely serious.

She stiffened, but he could tell from the slight shifting of her body that she was trying not to melt into him.

"Then start being more open with me or I won't be yours at all," she declared in a steely tone. Her voice was slightly muffled from her face practically being smushed into his chest, but the message was as clear and painful as a mirror shard.

He started rubbing her back, waiting for her to relax. She seemed to like the idea of leaving him more and more as she talked, so he would just have to remind her why she didn't want to.

"You can't just go back to not being mine, Granger," he whispered seductively. "Even if you do manage to persuade me to let you go, you'll still want me."

She sighed and melted into him. "I don't care," she groaned into his chest "I can't do this anymore. I need more, Malfoy. I just do. Be honest. Can you give that to me?"

He didn't know what to say, because he honestly didn't know the answer. Part of the reason he had been avoiding her in his spare time was because he didn't know _how _to be in a meaningful relationship. Every past relationship had always been strictly sexual and/or political. From the very start to the very end, he had known exactly what he was going to get out of it and how to make that happen. Only goody-two-shoes Gryffindors ever dated because they actually _liked _the person. And they always came up with some silly way of romanticizing it, like saying that person 'enriched their soul' or something equally ridiculous.

Then again, why was he so afraid of having a true, serious conversation with her? He had never been so nervous around one of his peers, especially a female. He'd never felt so...inferior. Only Hermione bloody Granger could make him feel like he wasn't good enough. Maybe it was because he had been forced to watch her torture in his own ancestral home. Maybe it was because he had only managed to out-mark her in Potions class. Maybe, just maybe, it was because he truly, actually _liked _her.

She was strong, beautiful, feisty, determined, cunning, and brave, but not reckless. She was logical, like him, but just as passionate and filled with sympathy for others. One minute she could be as calculating as a cynical Slytherin, and the next, sobbing over something he had said like a bleeding-heart Gryffindor. But she was also as thirsty for knowledge as a ravenous Ravenclaw and as trusting as those poufy Hufflepuffs. She was the essence of Hogwarts incarnate. Like every other student, Draco had thought of Hogwarts as a refuge from home, especially after the war. It symbolized strength, security, and just all-around Good. He himself had made possible a coup from the inside, and Hogwarts as a whole _still _hadn't fallen. With everything she had been through, Granger was _still _alive and sane. He needed a portable Hogwarts, someone stable yet challenging. She was perfect.

But what if he agreed to be more with her and then bulloxed it all up? Well, it probably wouldn't be as bad as not having her at all. But she was right, and he should have seen this coming a kilometer off. She wasn't the type to just give into her urges for any extended time. She always had to think things out logically, and she needed an emotional support system. She did deserve his honesty, at the very least, but she wasn't going to like the answers.

"I don't know," he said eventually.

She pulled away just enough to blink up at him in surprise. Had she expected him to lie?

"Oh," she replied softly, leaning her head back down.

He frowned. She had. She had expected him to lie to her face about it, or maybe be cruelly honest. She hadn't expected a simple, neutral answer. The no-longer-tiny part of him that worried and cared about her felt a rush of disappointment. She didn't think very highly of him, but had he ever done anything she would deem praiseworthy? Fantastic. Now he felt guilty. He nearly growled. She was the only witch in the world who could drag so many emotions out of him in one conversation. Not even his mother could manipulate him so easily, and that made him angry. And sad, and guilty, and humble. He didn't deserve her, but he refused to give her up. He had worked so hard to get her this close to him, and by Merlin's saggy ballsack he was going to find a way to keep her, too.

How, well, he didn't know quite yet. But he'd find a way. A Malfoy always got what he wanted, one way or another, and he wanted her to be his in every way possible.

***/***

He didn't know.

Well, that was probably the most honest answer he could have possibly given her. Points to him for resisting the urge to lie.

It felt like she was being stabbed in the chest by a tiny dagger, but at least he was honest about it.

How had she even gotten here? She was so much smarter than this. At what point had she decided to throw out all common sense and give herself to him?

Oh, right. She hadn't decided anything, because that implied that she had actually weighed the options and picked one. She didn't feel like she'd had a choice at all, except maybe give in now or give in later.

For what felt like the millionth time, she cursed his existence. She knew there was a psychological phenomenon where, if one was exposed to a really stupid person, one could actually feel oneself becoming stupider. Likewise, if one spent time with an excellent conversationalist, one could feel much smarter than usual. But she could not remember anyone saying they had felt both effects with the same person.

Malfoy made her feel like her brain was connected to a switch. Whenever he spoke, her brain flipped on, but whenever they touched, it flipped off. But if it were a simple matter of staying away from him, she would have never surrendered in the first place. No, her life was always _much _more complicated than that.

She actually _liked _not thinking. It was a nice little seaside vacation for her to just lie back and take everything he would give, and then pounce on him until she'd had her fill. It was an incredible feeling to ride the waves of lust all the way until they crashed on the shore, then swim back out and do it all again. They occupied each other for _hours _before slipping into a blissfully exhausted sleep.

And then she always woke up alone. Surely he didn't _always _have early morning meetings? Surely he could have chosen to stay _just once_ to wake up next to her?

She sighed. She had been so sure that he loved her, at least a little. But then why wouldn't he spend more time with her? She had made the same mistake every woman in the history of the human race had made. She had thought she could change a man.

She had somehow let herself believe that loving him would catch like a cold, that he would suddenly wake up one morning and realize he was in love with her, too. She had mistaken his love of sex and possessive nature as symptoms of his romantic feelings for her. In reality, he was just an amorous, jealous womanizer. Thank Merlin her friends hadn't been here for this.

She was ashamed of her attraction to him, so how the hell did she expect to even _have _ a normal relationship with him?

Answer: exposure to him made her an idiot.

He didn't want to be her boyfriend and he never would. As he had already told her once, he would say anything to get out of a disadvantageous situation. How could she build any sort of trust with someone like that?

She needed to stay away. She needed someone to talk some sense into her. She needed to see Devon. It had been too long since they'd talked, all because Mr. Insatiable over here believed it was never too early or too late for sex.

Now that she thought about it, she had felt awfully confined, like he had been constantly exhausting her on purpose so she'd never go anywhere. Did he really think she'd let him keep her prisoner, like a living sex toy, always available when _he _wanted it?

The more she thought about it, the more furious she became. She had been completely wrong about him. He was the same Malfoy as always, wanting _what _he wanted, _when _he wanted it, with zero regard for anyone else.

She was lucky he hadn't gotten sick of her yet, or he'd probably have convinced his aunt to kick her to the curb.

She was a strong, capable woman. She was Hermione bloody Granger, Brightest Witch of the Age. She refused to be locked up and subjugated like this. Sure, he was incredibly persuasive, but now she was onto his game. She would not be fooled again!

She suddenly yanked herself out of Malfoy's grip and backed up several feet, her arms wrapped around her stomach to prevent herself from doing something _really _stupid like reaching out for him.

He frowned at her and made to close the distance.

"Stop," she commanded forcefully, glaring at him.

Surprisingly, he obeyed, waiting for her to explain herself.

"I can't, Malfoy. I can't take it anymore. I thank you for being honest with me for once, but it's not good enough. I need a boyfriend who is willing and able to be with me physically _and _emotionally. I've had enough of just one or the other."

He snorted. "Be serious, Hermione. We've been over this."

"I'm more serious than you'll ever be. And yes, I know. As you _love _to remind me, you've successfully seduced me over and over. Congratulations! You've gotten what you wanted. Well, I'm ready to get what _I _want. I don't want _this_."

"What, mind-blowing sex?"

"This is _exactly _what I'm talking about!" she raged. "You keep messing with me like I'm your personal entertainment system! You keep me exhausted so I don't go anywhere, you insult me whenever you feel like it, which is nearly all the time, and all you can think about is sex! We haven't had an _actual _conversation in...God, I don't even _know _how long."

He raised an eyebrow. "We _just_ had one, right over there," he contradicted, indicating the dining table.

"And before today?" she challenged.

He paused to consider it.

"You don't know, do you? Because you were rarely here to actually have a conversation _with_!"

She took a couple deep breaths, resisting the urge to hex him for being an idiot, and making her one, too.

"We're done, Malfoy. I'm calling it off, right now."

"Just like that?" he asked emotionlessly.

"Just like that," she confirmed.

"No, we're not done," he countered, as confidently as if they were arguing over whether the color teal was bluish-green or greenish-blue.

"Yes, we are," she insisted. "If one person wants out, there is no association anymore. It doesn't matter whether you agree with me or not. I'm leaving now, and you are not going to stop me, or so help me God I will hex you."

She took out her wand and trained it on him, holding it steady the whole way past him. She safely reached the door and yanked it open, turning her back on him.

"This still isn't over, Hermione!" he called after her.

~~~\~~~

When Hermione walked into the diner, Devon immediately smiled and waved her over to the counter, where he was chatting with Mona.

"Hermione! And where exactly have you been for the past month? Shagging Mr. Smooth's brains out, I hope?"

Mona blushed enough for all of them, even though she was only listening.

Hermione smirked a little, and suddenly realized that a month ago, she would have been as red as Mona was, but now she didn't even blink. She mentally shrugged, blaming it on Malfoy. Life was so much easier when everything was his fault.

But that reminded her of _exactly _why everything was his fault, which put her right back into a foul mood. She sighed.

"Before you even ask, he's being a prat again, and I need to get away from him for a while. I'm sorry for essentially abandoning you two the past month. Draco and I were attempting to sort things out."

Devon raised his eyebrows. "Attempting, as in failing?"

She nodded. "I knew when I first got involved with him that he's prejudiced against committed relationships, and that I need one to be happy. I got involved anyway, and now I'm reaping what I've sewn. He's doesn't understand why it has to be all or nothing. But I can't enjoy an emotionless relationship outside of the physical moments. I've tried," she blew out some air petulantly, "but I just can't. I need more, but he can't give it. I'm giving up."

Devon frowned angrily. "I told that plonker not to mess with you. I guess that's what I get for trusting him. You want me to set him straight?"

Hermione smiled a little. He reminded her of Harry sometimes, and it was a nice feeling, but it also brought along melancholy that she wouldn't be able to talk to him for some time yet. She had gotten her monthly letter from her friends, and was happy that they were all still in the running, but missed them terribly. She almost wished one of them lost so they could come home and comfort her. Then again, she'd have to explain everything that had happened, and she had hoped to avoid that completely, especially with Harry and Ron. Ginny would be able to give her good advice, but the girl told Harry _everything_, and Hermione would rather that her boys heard the story from her directly, rather than second-hand. Ginny had a tendency to exaggerate.

She shook her head, focusing back on the subject at hand. She smiled wider at the thought of Devon punching Malfoy in the face to teach him a lesson, as Harry and Ron had longed to for so many years.

"Thanks, but that won't help anything."

There was also the fact that Malfoy could curse Devon into a peacock before the poor boy could get a single punch in.

"You sure? I've a mean right hook." Devon faked punching the air like a professional boxer.

Hermione chuckled. "I'm positive. I'm sorry to say he's a much better fighter than you, and frankly, you don't stand a chance of beating him. I'd be carting you off to the hospital if you tried."

Devon shrugged. "Yeah? Well, I'd take him down with me. Just say the word, and I'll track him down and give him what-for."

She almost burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of a muggle tracking down a wizard for a fistfight, but kept her amusement in check.

"Thank you for the support."

He grinned. "Anytime."

Then he cleared his throat. "Actually, speaking of support, I was hoping that, now you're here, you might be able to help me again."

Hermione tilted her head curiously. "With what?"

He glanced at Mona, who gave him a warm smile and a nod.

"So, you remember my mum? She wanted to have you come over again. Do you think you have time for dinner with us?"

Hermione smiled, wondering why he had been so nervous to ask that. Maybe he had thought she didn't want to be his friend anymore because she hadn't seen him in a while.

"Of course. My night's free, so I'd love to come. Is Mona joining us?"

She glanced at the girl, who busied herself with cleaning the counter and refilling the teapot.

"Er, no. Mona's not joining us tonight. She's working a double shift. What do you say we get going? My mum would love it if you showed up early. She keeps asking me when you'll come around again."

Hermione chuckled. The woman reminded her of Molly Weasley when she let her motherly side show. "Alright."

They said goodbye to Mona and started walking toward Edna's house, chatting amiably.

The only problem was that she noticed Devon getting more and more nervous as they approached their destination. She had no clue why he would be acting so strangely and had finally had enough. She stopped him about a block from the house.

"Devon, what's wrong? You're fiddling with your pockets like you might suddenly find something you'd lost," she observed with concern.

Devon smiled weakly. "Er, well, Hermione, I haven't been completely honest with you."

Hermione frowned, waiting for him to continue.

He took a deep breath. "I'm...er, I...you see..." he sighed.

"My mum doesn't know," he blurted. "About Mona. Or Draco. Or anything. I never told her the truth."

Hermione's mouth dropped. "She still thinks we're dating?"

He nodded, shamefacedly staring at the ground.

"Devon!" she reprimanded.

He winced. "I'm sorry! I tried to tell her, I wanted to. But she keeps talking about how lucky I am you're with me and how she just knows you'll be the best daughter-in-law ever and I just can't bring myself to crush her hopes like that."

"But she loves Mona! I'm sure she'll be perfectly happy with her."

He grimaced. "Not as much as she loves you."

Hermione frowned, confused. "But how can she love me so much when I've only met her once? I mean, she hardly knows anything about me!"

Devon shrugged, shuffling from one foot to the other. "I dunno. But will you _please _play along, Hermione? I know you have absolutely no reason to, and I should just tell my mum, but she's so..._happy_. She hasn't even talked about marriage yet, which means she's too enraptured with you to care when we marry. That's never happened before. I just want to enjoy the peace while it lasts, yeah?"

Hermione sighed, knowing she was already going to help him against her better judgment. She was a sucker for pathetic begging all because of Harry and Ron.

"Oh alright. I'll play along just this once, but you _really _need to tell her, Devon."

He grinned sheepishly. "Or, you could break up with me tonight."

Hermione gaped. "I am _not _breaking up with you in front of your mother!"

"_Please?_" he begged. "It'll make it all so much easier! She won't like you as much anymore, so Mona will be great in comparison! I mean, Mona's not even in the same league as you! She needs some sort of advantage for my mum to like the idea of her. She's too shy and reserved to show my mum how good she is."

Hermione blushed at the high compliment, and admitted that the flattery, mixed with logic, was working.

"I'll only do it if I feel comfortable with it at the time, but no promises," she declared.

He sighed in relief. "That's the best I can ask for, so thanks. I really mean it, Hermione. You're amazing."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, linking it with hers.

"Come on. Let's go get this dinner over with."

~~~\~~~

"Hermione dear!" Edna screeched happily as the two walked into the house, hand-in-hand.

Hermione winced as the woman practically smothered her in a hug. She was in full-Mrs.-Weasley-mode.

"Hello, Edna," she returned bravely.

"How are things coming at the flat? I hope you've been tiding up the place as it should be? Devon always has a nasty habit of leaving his towels on the floor in the bathroom, so I apologize. I tried to teach him better, but you know how boys are in their teens..."

As Edna rambled for her forgiveness about Devon's terrible manners, Hermione shot Devon a glare. Apparently, they had already moved in together, after only a month!

Devon smiled meekly, asking for her forgiveness himself.

Dinner wasn't any better. There was a landscape painting on the wall opposite her of a white sand beach at sunset with dolphins jumping out of the water. It was a lovely painting, and Hermione was tempted to lose herself in its beauty so she didn't have to be so uncomfortable the whole time. The only thing that stopped her was the fear of Devon digging the giant hole he was in even deeper if left unchecked.

It seemed as if Edna had nothing but praise for how Hermione was putting up with her "lovable slob of a boy." There were some promising moments where Edna interrogated her son about what they'd been doing the past month, and how they had divided the chores.

"Because Lord knows the boy is hopeless in the kitchen, but he can vacuum," she remarked to Hermione.

Hermione wished that Devon would slip and say that Mona was good at one thing or another so they could stop the torture, but she completely understood why he hadn't said anything yet. The woman's jubilant demeanor was simultaneously infectious and oppressive. It was almost a weapon of subjugation all on its own. She hoped the woman only used her powers for the forces of Good.

Eventually, the rambling was over. In place of it stood an awkward silence punctured with startlingly observant questions.

"Hermione, dear, why haven't you kissed Devon yet this evening?" for example. "Did he say something offensive again? Lord knows the boy couldn't sweet-talk a nice girl to save his life."

"Mum," Devon groaned.

Hermione blushed. She desperately hoped that his mother meant a chaste kiss on the cheek. Anything more than that, and she would start to wonder if the woman had more wrong with her than she had originally thought.

"What?" Edna asked, obliviously. "You held hands when you came in, but she hasn't touched you since. You must have done _something _wrong to make her withdraw her affection-"

Before she could come up with several more reasons why it was all Devon's fault, Hermione leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.

"Please don't worry, Edna. He's done nothing wrong. I was just worried that you might not like me being overaffectionate with him," Hermione supplied.

Devon shot her a deeply relieved and grateful look. She smiled back at him warmly.

"Oh, Hermione! That's absolute nonsense. I know what you two do behind closed doors, as everyone else does it, too. Affection is nothing to be ashamed of! Now go on and give him a nice big kiss so he knows you're not cross with him."

Hermione winced, eyeing Devon's reaction. She very much hoped he would think of a way out of this. While he wasn't unattractive by any definition, she did not feel comfortable kissing anyone in front of their mother, desperate friend or not.

But the defeated look in his eyes told her, no, he had no miracle to pull out of a hat to avoid the situation. They would have to kiss. _Really _kiss.

He leaned in and whispered, "Just dive in and do it. Don't think or it won't be convincing."

She had half a mind to come clean with his mother right there, but she reasoned that it wouldn't be so bad. It wasn't like it was her first kiss or anything special. Just one kiss to help a friend in need. Neither of them had romantic feelings for the other, so there was no danger there.

Before she could think up a reason to stop him, he lightly pressed his lips to hers.

She consciously opened her mouth a little to give him enough room for a good performance, but nothing more.

As she went through the motions of kissing him for about ten seconds, she noticed several things.

One, there was nothing. It was the most clinical kiss she could have ever imagined and then some. There was no need for more contact, no desire to stay there forever, and more importantly, no want. She could have been kissing her toothbrush. In fact, she was greatly relieved when they thought it was safe to stop.

Two, if it made her feel anything at all, it was guilt. She felt like she was cheating, which was ridiculous, because Draco didn't believe in exclusive dating. It was against his religion. Then again, he did get awfully upset whenever she mentioned spending time with any male that wasn't him. But even so, she _had _officially broken up with him, if she could even use that term for a fling.

Three, she couldn't have focused on the kiss itself if she tried. Her thoughts wandered to Draco's addicting embraces. She wished she were kissing him, instead. She suddenly realized the pure chemistry between them was far more unique than she had thought. At least when she was with Ron, she had felt something because she had cared for him romantically. But knowing that this..._nothingness_ was possible...it only highlighted how intense her relationship with Draco was. Every time the ferret was in her general vicinity, her body always had some sort of physical reaction, like it was calibrated specifically to gravitate toward him. But here she was kissing a perfectly nice bloke, and her body didn't even twitch.

Four, just the thought of Draco made her feel warmer. She imagined them lying in a meadow, their skin warm from sunshine and tickled by the grass as they snogged. She imagined him sliding his hands stealthily into her trousers to quickly squeeze her cheeks, one of his little reminders that she belonged to him. She reveled in his possessiveness in the bedroom, metaphorically speaking, as they weren't confined to bedrooms. He was never distant with her, always staring into her eyes as he pleasured her, watching and making sure she was experiencing the highest pleasure he could give her without overloading her. He had said once that passing out from pleasure was never good, because then one missed out during the time they were unconscious. He was a great advocate of the saying, "time is money," or in those cases, "time is bliss."

They had finally broken the kiss, but now Draco's seductive smirk was stuck in her head, and she couldn't shake the need building inside her. She needed him inside her, bringing her to the edge and hovering there until she dove over. Dear Merlin, she was addicted. It had only been a few days and now she felt her body begging for just one more hit. She had one thought of him, and now she was practically burning up as her insides clenched hopefully. All she had to do was go back to the Manor, find him, and give him that one look he loved so much. The look said, 'I'm going to go lie down, naked, and pleasure myself. Just so you know. Feel free to stop by if you have a spare moment.' That look always set him off, practically tackling her onto the bed, or whatever was the nearest flat surface, and ripping her clothes off as quickly as possible. Those times were _really_ fun.

She snapped out of her reverie when Devon started snapping his fingers in front of her face.

"Hermione?" he asked worriedly.

Edna laughed proudly. "Now _that _was a kiss. The poor girl is too stunned to respond!"

Before Hermione could pull herself together properly, there was a loud knocking at the door.

Devon shot up. "I'll get it." He practically ran to the door, thankful for the distraction.

Strangely, Devon instantly started whispering at the person.

"...and I promise to explain! Just don't get angry-" she heard Devon say frantically.

"Don't. Get. Angry?" the other person said disbelievingly, his tense voice just barely controlled.

Hermione's eyes widened. She'd know that condescending tone anywhere.

Fuck.

She stood up quickly as Draco practically shoved Devon aside.

"Pardon my intrusion, Madam. I've come to collect my girlfriend," he announced to Edna, daring anyone to argue with him as his hand latched onto Hermione's arm.

Edna blinked and then glared, turning accusingly toward Hermione. "Girlfriend? So Rita was right about you all along! You... you, _scarlet woman_!"

Hermione was paralyzed by her mixed emotions. That was the second time a motherly figure had called her that. And who was Rita? She couldn't possibly mean...

"Rita Skeeter?" she asked dumbly.

"The very same!" Edna declared, building up steam. "Normally all she writes is rubbish, but I can't _believe _I fell for your spider web of lies!"

Hermione couldn't do anything but gawk. She was clearly hallucinating. Edna and Devon were muggles. They couldn't know who Rita Skeeter was, or that she had written that article about her in _The Daily Prophet_ four years ago.

"And how _dare_ you bring the son of Lucius Malfoy into my home!" the woman screeched. "_Out! _Get_ OUT!"_

Devon ran over and literally shoved her and Draco out the front door, closing it behind them. A rook in a nearby tree cawed loudly, as if an echo of Edna.

In her shock, Hermione's mind ran over Devon's actions again, this time factoring in that he probably had known exactly who she was. Most of their interactions didn't seem any different, but it certainly explained why Edna had liked her so much. She had known who Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of the Age and Co-Defeater of Voldemort was. _That's _why she had been so happy that her son was dating her.

"You're a wizard?" she finally asked.

Devon sighed. "Squib, actually. My mum's a half-blood and my dad's a muggle-born, like you. They were disappointed when I didn't show any signs of magic by my fifth birthday, but they considered it a blessing in disguise. They didn't believe for a second that You-Know-Who had been truly defeated by a baby, so they decided to officially leave the Wizarding World and settle down as muggles, though my mum's been updated on important events through her old friends. She still owls them once in a while."

He took a deep breath. "And yes, I knew exactly who you were the moment I saw you, and him, too. I don't quite share my mum's hatred of everything Malfoy, but I've heard too many stories to be impartial."

He glared at Draco. "Just because I can't use a wand, doesn't mean I can't teach you to respect her, you know," he growled.

Draco scoffed. "You wish. I could hex you to the ground in half an instant. My clear superiority aside, it's rather amusing to hear you talk about respecting her, when you _know _she's already spoken for." He narrowed his eyes threateningly, "And you _still _kissed her." His hand traveled to his wand.

"She kissed me, too!" Devon defended.

Hermione rolled her eyes and held back Draco's eager hand with her own to prevent a bloody mess, in more ways than one.

Draco sneered. "She kissed you back because she pitied you. She wasn't _enjoying_ it."

Devon puffed up. "Yeah? How do you know? _Maybe_ she enjoyed it a little more than you think."

Draco stepped forward menacingly. "_Maybe_ you're a flobberworm that's begging to be squashed by my boot."

"Boys!" Hermione yelled exasperatedly.

She yanked Draco back by his arm and stepped between them, keeping her hands on Draco's chest to hold him at bay. She knew Devon wouldn't actually attack, but she couldn't say the same for her boyfriend. Merlin, had he really called her his girlfriend?

She shook her head. She could analyze that to death that later. Right now Devon was in danger of being hexed off some good old, tall, English cliffs. She wouldn't put it past Draco to apparate them all there just so he could push an enemy off of them in some manly display of protecting what's his.

"Listen, both of you! Just stop, alright? No, Draco, stop!"

Draco tried to move around her and protect her at the same time, but she backed up and pushed her hand against his chest harder, dragging his attention to her.

"Devon was just riling you up; you know that, so calm down."

She turned to Devon. "It's probably better if we leave now. I'll go to the diner tomorrow so we can sort this out, but he needs to cool down first."

Devon nodded and went back inside his mother's house, leaving them alone outside the front door.

Hermione took a deep breath, steeling herself to deal with an infuriated Draco.

She turned to him, but before she could say a word, his wand was out, and he was apparating them away.

As soon as they landed, she yelled at him. "Draco! You can't just apparate in the middle of an open area like that! What if one of the neighbors had looked out their window at that exact moment! You could have just blatantly broken the Statute of Secrecy!"

She paused when she noticed that he was staring at her intently, but not listening to a single word. She glanced around and noticed he had apparated them to his room at Morgana Manor.

She looked back at him cautiously. "Draco?"

"You kissed him," he stated emotionlessly.

She blinked, feeling tiny tendrils of fear crawl around her stomach. Surely he wouldn't hurt her, would he?

She swallowed. "Yes."

He stepped forward and reached up.

She flinched instinctively, turning her head to the side and closing her eyes.

His fingers caressed her cheek before cupping it gently. She almost heard the flipped switch of her brain shutting off.

She slowly opened one eye and then the other, waiting for him to lash out.

He stroked the top of her cheek with his thumb.

She turned her face to him again, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of his fingertips.

In an instant, his other hand wrapped around her waist and yanked her bodily against him.

He leaned down to whisper into her ear.

"What," he hissed, "did I just tell you about being _mine_?"

Her eyes opened wide as she stared sightlessly at the wall behind him, hanging on his every word.

"Your body is _mine _to touch, your lips are _mine _to kiss, and your desire is _mine _to evoke. Mine and mine _alone_!"

The hand on her waist darted under her shirt to caress her spine in long strokes, using the precise amount of pressure that made her turn into something like a puddle of goo.

"_Draco_..." she breathed, lacking enough oxygen to moan properly.

"That's right, Princess. _Mine_ is the only name you know how to speak."

The hand on her cheek slid into her hair and grabbed the roots, tilting her head to the side just so, allowing his lips to float across her neck, barely touching.

Hermione's hands latched onto his robes so she didn't just fall over whichever way gravity felt like. She had no idea how desire could make her feel weightless and heavy at the same time, but her mind blanked as his lips found the special spot at the base of her neck and shoulder. His tongue darted out to lick it, teasing her with what he was about to do.

She squirmed in his grip silently begging him to do it.

"Is there something you'd like to say?" he breathed huskily.

There were always these moments of snarkiness that made her want to yell and slap him, because they were designed to make her admit, out loud, her dependency on him and thus his superiority. He relished these moments and she absolutely loathed them, but she loved everything that came after, once she had properly debased herself.

She bit her lip, delaying the inevitable, but he grew impatient. The hand on her back slid down in her trousers and yanked her closer so she could feel his erection.

"Say it," he growled.

She nearly moaned at the delicious tension and knew she couldn't hold off any longer. Her body was begging him, but he wanted to hear the words.

"_Please_...take me, Draco. I'm yours and yours alone. I want you. I _need_ you inside me."

He practically tossed her onto his bed before vanishing their clothes with a flick of his wand. One more swish prevented pregnancy and then the wand was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. He jumped onto her and settled himself between her thighs, teasing her with shallow thrusts.

She tried to maneuver him inside her, but he backed off each time she did.

After the fourth time he did this, she sat up and glared at him.

"Draco Malfoy, don't you dare-OH!"

In the middle of her rant, he smirked and thrust inside her, as deep as he could go.

The very moment afterward, she cursed him to high heaven for being such a manipulative prick, but every moment after that was filled with broken thoughts or complete blankness altogether.

She loved losing control with him, and watching him lose his own careful restraint.

He started off teasing, as usual. Several shallow strokes followed by one deep stroke, powerful enough to make her moan. But then she squeezed her inner walls around him and his perfect rhythm faltered, his cool grey eyes darkening to slate. She did it three times before provoking his inner caveman to claim her like he meant it.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? I'm still able to talk," she whispered.

Then he smirked and said, "Not for long, Princess," before nudging her legs in place and pounding into her so that he'd hit the same spot deep inside her with each thrust.

She didn't last long after that. Maybe a whole two minutes at most before a powerful orgasm washed over her, making her cry out his first name in ecstasy and cling to him. She vaguely registered him following soon after, but couldn't really focus on anything except the chemicals of pleasure flooding her system like morphine.

In a rare moment of lucidity while basking in the aftermath, she realized that they, together, were a chemical cocktail of bad ideas. They couldn't work. They could _never_ work. No matter which way she looked at it, they were detrimental to the other's health. He was like a stash of her favorite candy, sitting harmlessly on the counter. Its mere presence constantly tempted her to the point of gluttony, and she rarely resisted.

If they continued indulging themselves in the other, they'd grow fat and addicted...metaphorically. Although, she honestly felt like a sex addict already. He was so good at it that the lows had her wishing she were anywhere he was, just so she could have one more hit to get her through until the next.

_Hello. My name is Hermione Granger. I have a problem. I'm addicted to Draco Malfoy. _

Admitting the existence of a problem was the first step, right?

She sighed. Out of all the males in the entire United Kingdom her body could have chosen, it had chosen Draco bloody Malfoy. For the nth time in her life, she cursed his existence. Around anyone else, she was perfectly level-headed and logical, just as her parents had raised her. But the moment Draco touched her, her brain might as well have been mashed potatoes because her libido woke with a ferocious yearning she could only barely control.

And the worst part (or best depending on her mood) was that he knew exactly how to take complete advantage of that to send her pleasure meter into triple digits.

For her own sanity, she had to give him up.

But he had finally called her his girlfriend! Was he actually ready to take on the responsibilities associated with the title of boyfriend, or had he merely been staking his claim, using the word to get what he wanted? It was probably the latter, but she stupidly held hope that just maybe it could be the former.

She needed to stop seeing him, but she didn't think she'd be able to stop herself. No wonder addicts needed support groups. This was bloody hard all on her own.

_Okay, Hermione. You can do this. Just get out of the bed, put your clothes on, and dash back to your room. You can figure out what to do tomorrow, but you cannot let yourself get more attached until you know for sure he can be what you need. You can do this. They don't call you the Brightest Witch of the Age for nothing. You'll survive and make it through, with or without him._

With that little pep talk bolstering her, she quietly slid out of Draco's bed, dressed, and made her way back to her room before throwing on some nightwear and collapsing into her own bed. She wondered why the boy had to be so confusing on purpose, but didn't get a chance to list her theories before she fell asleep and dreamt of beached narwhals.

~~~\~~~

Predictably, Draco wasn't home the next morning. It made her more sure that they could never work, but also incredibly sad. He wanted her body, not her. But she was already hooked on him. How could she possibly stay away when he was so close all the time? At this point he knew every little quirk of her body's responses to him, so he was effectively irresistible. She was doomed.

To distract herself from impending self-pity, she decided to get a move on and go visit the diner. Devon had _a lot_ of explaining to do.

~~~\~~~

**A/N2: **First, your prompts for next time are: a word that just sounds like it is or refers to something disgusting (no matter if it actually is or isn't), a word that's fun(ny) to say, and a word that you associate with 'love'. Second, a special thank you to MarchesaLace, who reminded me that this website is known for randomly taking down stories, so it is always wise to have a back-up archive somewhere. So, I made a LiveJournal to see if it works out. I'm a little peeved that some of my chapters are too long for one post, but I don't mind as much since I only plan on posting stories there anyway. Anywho, see my profile for the link. Until next time, hope you're well!


	10. Meanwhile

**A/N: **Hello dearies! As you'll see, this is a very short chappie. This is for two reasons. One, if I added any more, it would be forced and mess with the flow of the next chapter, especially since I wanted to keep this a fun chapter that doesn't have Hermione or Draco directly in it. I've been writing them for so long that it's nice to have a little change before I go back to them. Rest assured, there will be plenty of Dramione goodness next chapter! I'll just let you imagine what _kind _of goodness. Two, my boyfriend has kindly informed me that, since he has all next week off of work because of U.S. Independence Day (the lucky bastard), he demands I spend most of next week with him after I get home from work. This means almost zero writing time to myself, so I figured you'd all hate me less if I gave you a short chapter now to tide you over and then a longer chapter in two weeks, rather than waiting three weeks to give you a short and a long chapter. Lastly, just to clarify, the scenes in this chapter are separate, and therefore not necessarily happening right after the previous scene. Some of them, like the letters at the beginning, happened a while ago. I think they're pretty clear which ones are directly connected and which aren't, but let me know if you get confused.

**Reviews:**

missshannonwhite -  I hope that was a good type of 'wow'. Like, 'wow that was so amazing', as opposed to 'wow, that was so terrible my brain hurts'. So, thanks, I think? =P

viola1701e - Ah, but making things worse is what makes these types of stories interesting, no? It wouldn't be much of an exciting story if I said: Once upon a time there was a sexy beast named Draco Malfoy and an intelligent bookwork named Hermione Granger. They had mind-blowing sex, fell in love, got married, and made lots of babies, living happily ever after with the Malfoy fortune. The End. Not only is that incredibly short, but also predictably boring. Harry and Ron will of course cause a little mayhem, but I see Ginny as more of a supportive, nurturing character, so she's going to help more than hinder. But I shan't say any more lest I give too much away!

nikki98 - Thank you! I like possessive Draco, too. The funny thing is that, even when I'm writing him, I can't help but think that if he were anyone else, he'd be so incredibly creepy that no girl would want to be in a 100 mile radius of him. There's just something about that arrogant Malfoy smirk that makes him sexy instead of creepy. I still haven't figured out why, but it's funny to think about. In any case, yes, if Hermione bothered to wonder how Malfoy had known she was at Devon's mother's house, she could probably put two and two together, but she always lets her emotions and insecurities get the best of her whenever he's involved. As for Devon, I tried to express how very terrified he is of confronting his own mother (much like the Weasley children are with Molly), but you are right. He knows better, and hopefully he'll redeem himself in your eyes this chappie.

racethom - As I mentioned in the disclaimer at the beginning of the story, this is more like a take off of a take off of one of Julia Quinn's books. I haven't read any of them, but I probably will soon enough just out of curiosity.

Divess - It's true. Devon was rather selfish in avoiding confrontation with his mum, but hopefully you'll forgive him after this chappie. Draco isn't exactly a traditional knight in shining armor, as he is a very passionate person. As such, he can seem wishy-washy like that to those who don't know what's going on in that crazy head of his because his goals can change from moment to moment. I don't want to give too much away, but I can tell you that he does indeed have a few reasons for being away so much, so if he seems to be reverting back to Emotionless!Draco, it's only because there is so much to be done and so very little time to do it in.

cloudy rains - Thank you! Not gonna lie, I'm super happy that my story gives you such a physical reaction! It's easy for me to say I get caught up in the story as I'm writing it, but it's so lovely hearing someone else say that they get just as into it. Thank you again for telling me!

~~~\~~~

Meanwhile...

_Bluebird,_

_Does Blackbird truly insist on us using these ridiculous monikers? If the mandrake finds one of these and has any sense at all, he'll know exactly who we are whether we use our actual names or not. You are the only women in his life who would dare meddle so intricately in his affairs, which, I remind you, I have been completely against ever since I let that damned comment slip. Whatever you do, do not let the cub's research be affected by this. If it is, I will be very displeased, friendship or no. She is one of the few students I have had that isn't a complete dunderhead, and my name will be attached to hers in the public eye. Do. Not. Mess. This. Up._

_King Snake_

***/***

_King Snake,_

_Don't be silly. Blackbird and I would never let her name be tarnished in the public eye, as you very well know that would also put a damper on our aspirations. Things are going along as planned, and I think it will not be long now before the next phase begins. The tension between them is palpable enough to eat, so I am not worried at all. Keep your end of the bargain, and all will be well._

_Bluebird_

_~~~\~~~_

_Blackbird,_

_Mandrake is finally ready for the next phase. He asked me about marriage prospects, claiming that you had sent him a letter asking for my advice. Now I know it's complete rubbish as we've been communicating this whole time, but I think he was particularly interested in knowing whether I approved of his pursuing the cub. I gave him the approval he sought and his eyes lit up like Christmas. She is definitely the one and I think he knows it, too. He already knows King Snake approves of her, at least to an extent, so my guess is you'll be next. Shall we arrange for you to stop by for tea?_

_Bluebird_

***/***

_Bluebird,_

_Oh, that's just lovely! I would love to, but not quite so soon. He will get most suspicious if I do not have a legitimate reason to see him. He's just as quick as his father, and he's grown so much that I have to use my most subtle tactics to do anything anymore. We ought to wait a bit to see if he'll come to me first, and then step in if anything seems amiss. In the meantime I shall plan my first impression of her so as to convince him the idea hadn't even crossed my mind. Thank you for your constant vigilance in this matter._

_Blackbird_

***/***

"FOLEY CATCHES THE SNITCH AND THE TORNADOS WIN BY A SINGLE GOAL!"

Everyone in the stadium who was wearing blue rose up from their seats and cheered themselves hoarse.

Everyone else in dark green was either groaning, swearing, or booing.

Ginny Weasley went through the motions that were required at the end of every game, but couldn't decide if she was relieved or depressed. On the one hand, she had had such high hopes for the team. The Holyhead Harpies had been practically cruising through, beating almost all the other teams with a clear buffer of at least five goals. She had never felt better than the times she made score after score, effortlessly outwitting the other team's Keeper. Only Ron had been a real challenge during the Harpies-Cannons game because her brother had watched her play all her life. He knew her tactics and the way she thought. That was a game the Harpies had just squeaked by because their Seeker had been quicker. In addition, Puddlemere United was still in the running, so she would no longer be able to spend as much time with her fiancé.

On the other hand, while she immensely enjoyed messing around with her teammates, whom she had quickly become very close to, she greatly missed her best friend. Hermione Granger had been her first true female friend, as she hadn't really appreciated Luna Lovegood until she went to Hogwarts, so she desperately wanted updates on Hermione's love life (hopefully no longer a lack thereof) and the new potions mistress she was studying under.

She, Harry, and Ron had pestered every gossip they could find about news of Hermione, since they hadn't wanted to make owls fly back and forth across the whole continent all the time. They settled for sending her letters once a month, knowing she would always be in the same place, patiently waiting for them to return so she could tell them all about her potions research.

Of course, there was never a shortage of rumors about the Brightest Witch of the Age, especially since she was one-third of the Golden Trio, and best friend of the Boy-Who-Conquered, or whatever they were calling Harry these days. They had heard an absolutely ridiculous rumor not that long ago that she had been spotted in Diagon Alley shopping with none other than Draco Malfoy, the boy that had bullied her and her friends relentlessly throughout school. Rumors like those they ignored immediately. Malfoy had only gotten _more _obnoxious as the years passed due to his ever-increasing bank accounts and social influence. They knew Hermione would never voluntarily spend time with him. What had probably happened was they spotted each other in the same shop, got into an argument, and then left at the same time, going in opposite directions to get away from the other. They hardly ever crossed paths without making _some _sort of scene.

In any case, it was high time she returned home to Grimmauld Place for some relaxation and quiet. Maybe she could even convince Hermione to stay with her to keep her company until Harry came home. Yes, that's exactly what she would do. It would be hard to tear Hermione away from her work, but Ginny was confident she could wheedle her best friend into submission.

On that note, she immediately pulled out a piece of parchment and started writing her letter to Hermione. Once she got back home, she'd owl it over just so the owl wouldn't have to travel so far, but it would be enough warning for Hermione to clear her schedule the following day. They were going to have a girls day whether the bookish brunette liked it or not!

***/***

"Mona, I'm sorry," Devon blurted, impulsively grabbing her pale hand across the table.

Mona smiled sweetly and rubbed her thumb on his. "What for?"

He sighed. "You know, for...for not telling my mum. About you, I mean. For being too scared to tell her the truth. I'm so sorry."

She shrugged and squeezed his hand affectionately. "It's alright. I know how she is. I don't care as long as you still want me."

He shook his head. "I still don't understand why you aren't mad at me. Any other bird would have my head for it."

"Devon, I've waited for you to notice me for five years. I don't mind waiting a little longer, knowing that you'll get around to it eventually."

He leaned forward. "But that's what I don't get! You're not giving me any time limits or ultimatums or...anything! You're just...fine with it? You don't care if she never knows?"

Mona chuckled lightly. "Well, you'll have to tell her eventually. I hope you wouldn't get married without her knowing," she teased.

Devon rolled his eyes, smiling a little. "You know what I mean."

Mona leaned in, too, catching his gaze with her soft one. "Like I said, now that we're together, I don't care about anything else. Your mother has known me since I was four. I have no concern that she won't like me. I'm already like the daughter she never had. While Hermione is a wonderful person, she's too headstrong for you. You need someone nurturing, not argumentative."

He chuckled. "And why is that?"

"Because I've watched you tear yourself apart trying to be perfect for these other girls, and you only make a mess. You aren't anyone but yourself with me because you know I like you the way you are. You don't have to have the best job or the best pay or go to the fancy restaurants. You and I have been having fun playing in mud, shoving each other into ponds, and just enjoying _each other _for so long. I like to think you don't know how to be anyone else but yourself with me. I know who you are, Devon Robert Winchester, and I wouldn't have you any other way."

He took a shaky breath and squeezed her hand. "Bloody hell, I love you so much, Mona. I'm so sorry I didn't notice sooner."

"I know, Devon. I love you, too, and you have the rest of our lives to make it up to me," she smiled cheekily.

Devon pushed himself further over the table to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. "I don't deserve you," he whispered.

"Of course you do. Like everything else, you just haven't realized it yet," she whispered back with a grin.

A loud, fake cough made them both turn.

"As relieved as I am that you two crazy kids _finally _saw sense, it's time for my break. Let her get back to work, yeah Devon?" the blonde said pointedly.

He sat back into his seat. "Yeah, yeah. You know, for someone who just got back from vacation, you're not pulling your weight around here, Trish, making Mona work all the time."

Trish slapped him upside the head.

"Oi!" he exclaimed, rubbing his head.

"Now I know your mother taught you better than to be rude to your elders. You can stay if you behave, but she has customers to tend to, so don't you distract her, or I'm ringing your mother."

Devon huffed, pouting. "There's no need for blackmail."

She gave him a no-nonsense look. "My little boys give me that same pout and you know I'm immune to it, so don't even try."

Mona laughed. "Oh, it's alright, Trish. He won't bother me, I promise. He'll be quiet as a church mouse, won't you, Devon?"

He nodded on cue. "Silent as the grave."

Trish pursed her dark red lips. "Alright, but one slip and I'm sending you home."

He nodded, and she relaxed, satisfied. She turned to Mona. "Mr. Winston is asking for his special tea again, so keep an eye on him, and stop him after two. You know how he gets."

Mona nodded. "Of course." She got up and walked over to her boyfriend, bending down to kiss him on the forehead. "Tea?"

He smiled. "Please, love."

She started to walk toward the counter when he suddenly stood up and stopped her by grabbing her hand.

She smiled. "Devon, I need to work."

"I know, I just..." he took a deep breath. "I want to deserve you, so, I was just thinking...can we stop by my mum's after your shift?"

She grinned, eyes shining with happiness. "Of course."

~~~\~~~

Edna Winchester was a force to be reckoned with. He had been instilled with a healthy fear of her moods, but he also knew that she only wanted him to be happy. He reminded himself of it over and over again as his mum searched his face like she was reading cooking directions. Sometimes he wondered if she was using magic on him without him even knowing it.

"So Miss Granger was never your girlfriend?" she asked with an edge to her voice.

He nodded, clutching Mona's hand for dear life. She squeezed back and he made a mental note to apologize for hurting her hand afterward.

"She has instead been dating that..._boy_ all this time?"

He nodded again. "But when you told her to kiss me, she only did so because they're on a break. If she had been officially dating him, she would have refused." There was no sense in alienating his now good friend from his mother when it hadn't been her fault. He was finally ready to take responsibility for his mother's opinions.

His mum let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank goodness. You know how much I _detest_ disliking people. It takes such a toll on my energy. Well, I am _very_ disappointed in you for deceiving your own _mother _like this, but...Mona, dear. I am _so _sorry for my son's despicable behaviour. Please don't give up on him. You know how he gets when he has a silly idea in his head."

Mona smiled. "I know. Don't worry, Edna, he always comes around eventually."

The older woman nodded fondly. "He does, doesn't he? Fortunately, he managed to get my good sense and his father's guilt complex. Lord knows he needs one with all the lies he's told me." She shot another glare at her son, but was all smiles when she turned back to Mona.

"Will you be staying for dinner, dear? I've made Tuesday roast."

Mona grinned. "You know very well I never pass up your Tuesday roast. What a silly question."

The women stood and walked to the dining room together as they chatted.

Devon let his body sink back into the sofa, praising whatever power had allowed this to go so smoothly. Hermione would be so proud of him when he told her the good news.

~~~\~~~

**A/N2: **One last thing. Because this chappie was so short, I couldn't fit in all the words from last chappie's assignment, so there's no assignment this week. I'll include all the words from last time in the next chapter. For those in the U.S., Happy 4th in advance! For everyone else, I hope you have a fantastic week anyway! See you next time!


	11. Step 9: Leave Him Wanting More

**A/N: **Hello dearies! I apologize again for the short chapter last time, but here's a decently long one for you, as promised. Also, you, my lovely, _lovely_ reviewers, have convinced me to write a sequel to Regret. One of you even went so far as to threaten to cry if I didn't, and I just can't have my readers crying all over the place, spreading awful rumors about me being a meanie, so I simply must comply. I already have it outlined in my head and even started writing some of it just to get the really important scenes done. I'm super excited about it and I think ya'll will love it. Anywho, onto the reviews! And thank you again to everyone who gives me feedback, whether it be one word or one hundred!

**theonethatlived - **Nope! It's still not over! Harry and Ron haven't even come onto the scene yet! But even then there's still lots to come. Don't worry, I'll let you all know when it's over, so if I don't say anything about it being done, then you can assume there's another chappie coming!

**WickedCharm - **Thank you! I'm so glad you like it! Here's another chappie for you!

**summerful21 - **Thank you so much for your detailed feedback! Snape is only in on it because he happened to get roped into it at its conception, but you'll see more of that later. Honestly, I don't think there's a truly original Dramione plot left. The only thing that's left to do is make the same plot better in other ways or mix and match plot devices until something interesting happens. All those phases, as you put it, need to happen one way or another to make a couple like Dramione work realistically, but you're right. It's terribly clichéd at this point. I still love it, though. Thank you! I try to keep them as realistic as possible, but I also allow myself to have a little fun, too, by putting them in interesting situations. Ah, yes, the guide. My only defense for that is the following: I hope this is obvious, but the guide at the top of the chapters is actually Professor Morgana's little red book that Hermione refuses to read and subsequently forgets. So, yes, it makes all sorts of generalizations about Malfoys that most likely aren't true across the board. The idea is that it's Morwena's diary of her courtship with Titus, so she's jealous and bitter with a healthy dose of blunt pretty much throughout, as she's competing with so many other witches for his attention. In other words, it isn't a universal guide as much as Morwena's opinions about Malfoys in general. But I just really liked the idea that, for all her complaining about not understanding Draco, the one book Hermione refuses to read is the one book that would help her do that.

~~~\~~~

Step 9: Leave Him Wanting More

_Now that your Malfoy is growing complacent in his victory, it's time to mix it up again. For any normal male, this would be the part where you make the idiot realize how much he is in love with you and live happily ever after. But of course, Malfoys have to be obstinately difficult out of sheer principle. He may or may not make you aware of it, but at this point he wants to keep you in his life because he isn't through with you yet. It is the perfect time to leave him. Even if he has given you a hint as to his attachment to you, he is likely avoiding his desire to commit. If he is committing already, it is only out of necessity because he has something to gain from it, the greedy pig. As such, the next step is to force him to commit to you because he wants you and no other. Again, the precise reason why you don't want him anymore is up to you; just make it convincing and he'll know the true meaning of loss. Let him stew for as long as you dare and then make yourself available again. He'll come running like a trained dog, determined to stay by your side. He is, after all, still a male, and no heterosexual wizard can deny the witch of his dreams when she is once again within reach._

_~~~\~~~ _

_Hermione!_

_This is to let you know that my team lost, and as you read this I am settling back into Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ron are still in, so it will be just us girls for the near future. Speaking of which, I hope you have your schedule cleared because tomorrow you and I are going to have a girls day out. I'm willing to bet you've barely stepped foot out of your laboratory in ages so it'll be good for you to get out and about. Feel free to stop over today if you get bored, of course. Merlin knows once I'm done unpacking I'll be bored out of my mind. Scratch that. I demand you come over today, unless perhaps you are entertaining some male company? I want to hear _every _juicy detail! Otherwise I'm setting you up with some friends of mine because you deserve a hunk of a wizard who actually uses his brain, too._

_Speaking of stunning wizards, you wouldn't believe the rumor we heard the other day! Some crone swore up and down that she saw you out and about with _Draco Malfoy_ of all people in Diagon Alley. She was absolutely convinced that you two were a couple, but don't worry. We know she's bonkers. You'd _never _waste your time on a git like him. Besides, Lavender Brown interviewed him just recently, and he made it very clear he wasn't dating anyone exclusively. But I have to admit, he's attractive enough that even _I'd _consider an offer from him. I'd turn it down, naturally, because you know how much I love Harry, but I imagine he would tempt any available female, even someone as stubborn as you. _

_In any case, we have so much to talk about and I can't _wait _to spend loads of time with you!_

_See you in a bit!_

_Gin_

Hermione stared at the letter, wide-eyed. She hadn't even considered the fact that people had seen them that day in Diagon Alley, what they would think. Thankfully, Draco had apparently smoothed it over with the interview she had prompted, but it was just one more example of how being around him made her irrational. He was like an electrical impulse that scattered her brain's normal thought patterns. It made her more determined to stay away so she could act like herself again.

It was a miracle that only Ginny was coming home, just when she needed someone to spill her guts to without worrying it would get back to Harry and Ron. Ginny wouldn't be able to owl them, just like Hermione hadn't been able to, so once Ginny got over the shock that, yes, Hermione Granger actually _had been _shagging Draco Malfoy, she could help think of a permanent solution.

Maybe, now that Ginny was back, she could move into Grimmauld Place? Surely Ginny would want some company since she'd be pining away until Harry got back. Yes, she was going to ask to move back in today. The sooner she put some distance between herself and Draco, the better.

"Is that from Potter, or one of the Weasels?" Draco drawled from the doorway.

On instinct, Hermione whirled around and crumpled the letter in her fist, holding it behind her back. Sure, she looked incredibly suspicious doing it, but she wasn't ready to talk about her friends with him yet.

Predictably, his eyes narrowed, focused on the hand behind her back. The bloody observant git didn't miss a thing.

"It's from Ginny," she said, as normally as possible.

"And you're hiding it behind your back because..." he prompted.

"You startled me," she supplied. "I'm not used to anyone walking in on me reading my letters. They're personal."

Almost immediately she wished she could take back the last part. His eyebrow rose in interest. Dammit! Now he wanted to know what was so important to hide from him. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, Hermione!_

He slowly approached her. "Oh? And what did the Weaselette have to say?"

She gulped. "I told you, it's personal."

She wasn't entirely sure _why_ she didn't want him to read it. It was partly because Ginny had written about him, obviously, but she also knew it was more than that. There was some other issue her brain was too muddled to articulate at the moment.

All she could think about was her increased heart rate, and the anticipation building in her abdomen. Merlin, all he was doing was walking toward her and she was already turned on. Granted, he was looking very much the predator, but she didn't think he was thinking about sex this time. She _really _needed to get away from him. Otherwise she was afraid she'd pounce on him like a positive charge seeking a negative.

"So personal that you won't even let your boyfriend see it?" he persuaded.

She frowned, snapping out of the sexual haze. "You're not my boyfriend."

That stopped him. "Aren't I?"

"No." The word alone gave her the strength to think clearly. "You made it very clear to me earlier that you can't give me what I need. Therefore, you are not my boyfriend."

He rolled his eyes. "I said I didn't know, not that I couldn't."

"So you just choose not to, then?" she challenged.

He stayed silent.

Traitorous tears built up behind her eyes. This was precisely the problem. She couldn't trust him. He didn't want to work for it. He just wanted everything handed to him, and nothing expected of him. Relationships were hard work, for _both _sides. She refused to have a relationship with herself because he didn't want to even try.

"_This_ is why you can't read my post, or know where I am every second of the day. I want a _relationship_, Draco. Not a fling, or a _shag buddy_," she said with disgust. "I'm packing my things and moving in with Ginny tonight. Don't worry, you're now relieved of any and all responsibilities that go along with having an association of any sort with me."

He frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. Your place is here with my aunt. You haven't even seen the results of the potion trials yet. You might need to work on it some more."

She lifted her chin. "I may not be as rich as you, but I do have a considerable amount of money to my name. I can buy my own laboratory if I so choose. There's no reason for me to stay here."

He scowled. "You can't just leave." He stepped forward. "You're _mine_, remember?"

Her fists clenched by her sides. Even though her stomach squirmed in delight and told her that she was and always would be his, she ignored it.

"I can do whatever the bloody hell I please. And no, I'm not yours. I never was, and I never will be," she retorted coldly.

She started to move past him, but he blocked her, grabbing her arm. "I won't let you leave."

Her wand was out and jabbing into his throat in a flash.

"I am _not _asking your permission. Let go of me," she warned.

He clutched her tighter. "And if I don't?"

"I'll make you."

He smirked. "You won't hurt me."

She stomped on his foot. "_Colloshoo."_

"Ow! You bloody-"

She yanked herself out of his grip. "And don't you dare touch me again, Draco Malfoy!"

He made to catch her again, but the spell stuck his shoes to the floor. He jerked forward as if he had stepped on the aglet of a loose shoelace, very nearly toppling over. He latched onto a chair to keep his balance and then she was out the door.

***/***

Draco cursed everything he could think of as he removed her spell with a flick of his wand. He knew better than to chase her when she was angry enough to hex him. He just had no clue how she had gotten to that point.

Well, alright. Maybe 'no clue' was an exaggeration. He had an idea why, he just didn't like it. What he didn't understand was how she could change her mind so quickly. Just last night she had wantonly declared she was his, and now all of a sudden she never had been?

Bloody greedy witches. It was always more, more, more with them. They wanted more attention, more gifts, more affection, more romance, more everything. They were never satisfied with what they had. If they weren't so sexy and alluring, he'd ignore them altogether.

Except for Granger.

He sighed, pinching his nose. Granger was a bloody handful and a half. What was worse was that he actually had respect for her. It wasn't like this came out of thin air, either. She had warned him multiple times that she wasn't the type to shag and leave it be.

He supposed he had sort of possibly maybe brought this upon himself. A bit. One could hypothetically make an argument that he could be partially responsible for this outcome, and a tiny part of him might even agree. But only just a bit.

Oh bullocks, this was entirely his fault.

She had known this was a very real possibility, and so she had warned him. But he hadn't listened and now he was paying for it. He was addicted to her, but he had pushed her away. He hadn't tried hard enough. Hell, he'd barely tried to keep her at all. It was no wonder she had hexed him. He'd hardly even fought back.

While plopping into the chair and glaring sullenly at the floor, his eyes caught sight of a ball of parchment. It must have been the same parchment she had been withholding from him. Well, it was her fault if she just left it lying around for other people to read.

He picked it up and smoothed it out on his knee, his eyes darting back and forth, greedily absorbing every word on the parchment.

When he finished, he crumpled the letter into an even tighter ball in his fist.

Bloody meddling Weasleys. This was all their fault. They were always messing up his plans. Well, they weren't going to get away with it this time. They didn't think he was good enough for her? They thought all he was good for was a good lay? He'd show them. Granger could deny it all she wanted, but he knew the truth. She wanted him, all of him, and he was going to prove to her, to all of them, that he could be a good boyfriend. He would be the best bloody boyfriend in the universe.

***/***

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed the second the brunette stepped into the house, dashing into the corridor and almost tackling her to the ground.

Hermione laughed and hugged her tightly. "Hi Gin!" She felt warmth bloom in her chest at the reunion with her surrogate younger sister.

"How have you _been_? I have _loads _of stories to tell you and you better have some for me because I _refuse_ to believe you've been doing _nothing _but research!"

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Actually, I've finished my research. My potions are in the last phases of preliminary testing, so I should have my raw results soon."

"Ooh! Speaking of which, who's this new professor you're studying under?"

"Morwena Morgana. She's considered _the_ expert potions mistress in the U.K. She consults for research divisions of potions companies, and had stopped taking on apprentices long ago because she didn't really like teaching. Snape was kind enough to write a letter of recommendation for me, so she agreed to meet me. Well, as you can guess, we got along splendidly and so I've been living in her manor up until now."

"And have any particular wizards caught your eye?" Ginny teased. "The only thing we've heard on that front is that bonkers rumor I told you about with you and Malfoy. What happened with that, anyway?"

It was the perfect segue, actually.

_Oh, right. Malfoy. About that, I've been shagging him. We actually were in Diagon Alley together, but not on a date. I was trying to shake him off me because he was being a prat, as usual, and this was before he seduced me into a purely physical relationship. Now I've broken it off with him because I got in too deep and he still only wants me for my body. But it's fine, because I'm avoiding him so I won't give into him. How are Harry and Ron?_

She had thought it would be so easy to just blurt out the whole story in excruciating detail, but her lips refused to form the words. She was far too embarrassed to admit to anyone, not even to her best friend, that she had been such a blithering idiot, letting herself get wrapped up in Draco. She had known better, and her stubborn pride was getting in the way of admitting it aloud.

"There was this muggle named Devon, actually. He was nice, but he was also in love with his best friend, so we didn't work out. But he and Mona are still together," she mentioned nonchalantly.

_Oh, well done, Hermione. Let's just ignore the gigantic elephant you shoved into the closet. That's not going to backfire at all on you. You were lucky once that Draco kept his fat mouth shut about Graduation Eve, and here you are tempting fate again by hoping he'll keep it closed about this. Ginny is going to curse you if she finds out about it from him before she hears it from you._

And yet, for all her mental self-beratings, she still couldn't say it.

Ginny frowned. "Is that all? Well, in that case you shouldn't have any problem dating this _lovely _wizard I know from France. His accent just makes you melt right into a puddle-"

"No, Gin," Hermione said firmly. She'd had quite enough of wizards, and men in general, thank you very much, especially ones with French surnames.

Ginny pouted. "Oh come _on_, Hermione!"

"No."

"Fine. I'll save it for another day because I'm so happy to see you. But don't think I'm letting you off the hook."

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. "I know, I know. The interrogation will be continued. Tell me about Harry and Ron."

As Ginny launched into a hilarious story about one of Ron's conquests backfiring on him, Hermione smiled and listened patiently, all the while driving herself mad with the myriad ways in which her own conquest was going to backfire on her.

~~~\~~~

"Gin, what are you reading that's so fascinating?" Hermione asked after a solid five minutes of her best friend gaping and 'ooh'ing over some article in _The Daily Prophet_. They had been living together for a week, and Hermione had noticed that Ginny seemed much more _girly _than she remembered. She wasn't nearly as bad as Lavender Brown, of course, but Hermione did find herself getting more and more irritated by the sounds.

"Didn't you stop reading that like we did?" she added after a moment, slowly making her way through the small plate of corned beef hash.

Ginny sighed. "It's so _romantic_! I did stop reading for a bit, but the society articles are always so interesting and rife with gossip! Take this one for example; you _have _to read it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. There wasn't a single article in that pile of tripe she'd ever '_have _to read.'

"No thanks, Gin," she said, returning to _Potion-Making Through the Ages, Volume VII._

To her surprise, Ginny got up, walked over, and slid the _Prophet_ article right onto her book.

"Really, Hermione. You need to read this," the redhead insisted seriously.

The moment her eyes landed on the giant, smirking image of Draco Malfoy, Hermione knew she _really _didn't want to read it. For several moments, she feared that he had told the entire world of their fling, ready to slander her into social pariahdom to spite her for rejecting him. She held off as long as she could until the curiosity was too much to bear.

_ Draco Malfoy's Secret Love_

_ Ladies, brace yourselves, for I, Lavender Brown, special correspondent, bear  
>unhappy news. Our beloved, multi-talented, and dashingly brave war hero, <em>_Draco  
>Malfoy has become smitten with a witch he declines to name, though claims he is<br>dating exclusively.  
><em>

_"She's never wanted household fame, so I dare not reveal her name to you.  
><em>_ She's so modest, it will greatly embarrass her. The last thing I want is for her to  
><em>_ be cross with me because I made her the center of attention," he confesses fondly.__  
><em>_ When prodded to give more details of this mystery witch, he mentions that he  
><em>_ does have an announcement to make, in hopes that she would read this interview  
><em>_ and think favorably of him.  
><em>

_"The last time we spoke," he recalls sadly, "she declared that I was not devoted  
><em>_ enough to her. She refused to call me her boyfriend because she did not believe that  
><em>_ I was serious when I confessed my affection for her. I do not blame her for it, as I  
><em>_ know I have had quite the reputation with witches. Thus, I asked for this interview  
><em>_ so I could declare to the world that she has stolen my heart, and I will do everything  
><em>_ I can to prove to her that I am absolutely serious about our future together. She is  
><em>_ the only witch I desire, mind, body, and soul."  
><em>

_When I asked him what he had in mind to win her over, he smiled charmingly  
>and announced that he will host a charity ball at his Great Aunt Morgana's Manor<br>every Saturday, featuring a different charity each week that his lady love supports.  
>He does this in hopes that she will take pity on him and attend one of these events.<br>_

_"Now, I know what you're thinking," he grins teasingly. "Why would she attend  
>if it means I will stop the events? You see, I promised myself that if she did attend<br>one of them, I will match whatever money is raised in that night for that charity five  
>times over. That way, it is in my best interest to convince as many philanthropists<br>to come each night as possible, to tempt her into attending for the sake of the  
>charity. I know that no material gift will convince her of my sincerity or fidelity, but<br>perhaps the gift of selfless generosity will sway her. I can only wait and see if she  
>deems me worthy enough."<br>_

_And there you are, ladies, directly from the delectable wizard himself, who twice  
>won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, and sadly no longer qualifies for top<br>rank of Wizarding England's Most Eligible Bachelor, which he has also been dubbed for  
>the past two years in a row. All of us here at The Daily Prophet wish the Malfoy Heir all<br>the best, and hope his mystery witch will not keep him waiting too long, lest someone  
>else snatch him up like the catch he is.<em>

Hermione's mouth dropped open. This _had _to be a hoax. It was...just...preposterous! He couldn't be serious...could he? And all that rubbish about generosity? He was having a go at her from Graduation Eve! Here he was, making the entire world think he's in love and sounding all sweet, when really he was irritating her from afar because she wasn't there for him to do it in person! That absolute _slimeball_!

"I know," Ginny confirmed. "Even _Draco_ _Malfoy_ has found someone, Hermione! _Please_ just let me set you up with _one _friend? I have just the one in mind! He's tall and gorgeous, and doesn't play Quidditch professionally. He works at the Ministry, in the Magical Law Enforcement department, pushing parchment for the Wizengamot Office. It's not glamorous, obviously, but it pays well...Hermione Jean Granger are you even listening to me?"

Hermione finally tore her eyes away from the article. "Yes, I am listening. I don't know, Gin. I don't think I'm ready to date yet."

Ginny sighed. "But it's been _forever _since you and my brother broke up. Not that I'm dismissing the whole relationship mind you, because I know you really cared about him, it's just that it's not healthy to throw yourself into work and not even try. The perfect bloke for you is out there somewhere and you won't even _look_!" The redhead pouted.

Hermione's eyes flicked back to the image of Draco and her stomach tightened in recognition. _I'm looking at him right now_. She tore her eyes away again and flipped the tabloid over so she wasn't tempted anymore.

"Really, Gin, I'm just-"

"Scared," Ginny supplied with a frown. "It's perfectly alright to feel scared." She sat down next to the brunette.

"Giving your heart away is a terrifying thing, because there's always that chance the idiot will crush it. But that's part of the thrill, too, seeing if he feels the same way. I mean, with Harry, it was easy because I had fancied him for years, so I felt like there really wasn't any other option. But when he told me how scared he was that I could suddenly decide I didn't want him anymore...well, he's an idiot for even thinking it, of course, but it made _me _feel secure. It made me happy in that way because all I had to do was reassure him I would never give him up. I really want you to have that."

Hermione frowned. She felt like her heart had already been crushed, and she had no desire for an encore. And now the bloody git was rubbing it in her face.

"It's lovely that you want me to be happy, Gin, but I really don't think this is the way to go about it," Hermione reasoned. 'I'm sure the Wizengamot bloke is very interesting, but I just really, _really _am not ready to start dating again. Please understand. Ron was my first ever fully-invested romance, and the failure of it still hurts."

It wasn't a lie. Some days she wished she and Ron had worked out. Ron would never intend to hurt her, and anything he did wrong was always out of ignorance or Body Guard Syndrome, never maliciousness. She could not say the same of Draco. She knew Ron inside and out, better than he knew himself. What did she _truly _know about Draco and his intentions with her? Just because he had pretended to care about her for a bit to get his way did not mean he had suddenly changed his opinion of her, that she was an irritating, intolerable, know-it-all. They always ended up arguing over something somehow, so it's not like they could even _have _a normal, healthy relationship.

So, even if, by some crazy miracle, Draco suddenly, _honestly_ wanted to be her boyfriend, he was asking for an idea in his head that would not match reality. She would be doing him a favor, really, by setting him straight. So that settled it. She was going to go to one of those balls just to tell him off for being an unrepentant prat. And if, again by some insane act of God, he actually meant it, she'd reason with him exactly why they'd never work. They were two people who happened to have explosive chemistry, but absolutely _nothing _in common that they could base a relationship on. They argued like they were getting paid to do so, and no emotional relationship could ever survive that.

"_Hermione_!" Ginny huffed, snapping her out of her reverie. "Now I _know _you weren't listening that time so don't tell me you were!"

Hermione winced. "Sorry, Gin. I was just thinking about Ron, is all."

Ginny frowned apologetically, which made Hermione realize she had gotten better at lying. Honestly, being with Draco Malfoy had all _sorts _of negative side effects associated with regular use. First smirking, then caring about her appearance, now lying...what was next? Giving people insulting nicknames? Well, they already called him Ferret, so that didn't count...

"Alright," Ginny sighed. "I'll try to be patient, but just remember that you're not getting any younger! As much as I am all for catching a wizard with your personality, you have to admit that physical attraction plays a major part, and you need to use that to your advantage."

Hermione nodded. "I know, Gin."

"Good. Now tell me more about Professor Morgana. She sounds _delightful_!"

Again, Hermione had an overwhelming urge to tell her everything about Draco, while her lips remained firmly glued shut. So instead of discussing the personal relations of Professor Morgana, she focused on the Potions aspect.

~~~\~~~

It had been a month. A whole four weeks, and Hermione was forced to concede that it was no longer inconceivable that perhaps, just maybe, Draco had been serious. But it was still extremely unlikely.

Every Sunday, a new update on _Draco Malfoy's Secret Love_ was splayed on the first page of the society section, featuring yet another photo of 'Dashing Draco' patiently waiting for his love with a smile. It was enough to make her sick.

This was _not _Draco Malfoy. This was some unobservant doppelganger under Polyjuice. She could just imagine the real Draco smirking and laughing his head off at how he had nearly the entire (age-appropriate) female population ready to throw themselves at him. But _she_ wasn't. The one he was supposed to be waiting for _refused _to beg for him just because he was taunting her openly. Her body practically ached with need when she thought about what she was missing, but her stubbornness held out. She was stronger than this.

And just to prove it, to herself and to him, that she was not going to play his game, she decided she would go next Saturday. She was going to end this farce of 'generosity' and show everyone he was still a selfish, demanding, and manipulative git. It didn't hurt that the coming week's charity donation was for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, where Mr. Weasley still worked. Hermione smirked at the idea of Draco Malfoy donating an incredibly large sum of money to benefit the Weasleys, a family whom his father had loathed nearly above all others. It was fitting, she decided, and maybe Fate was on her side this time.

It took only six words for Ginny to jump for joy and drag Hermione around the clothing stores of Diagon Alley until she was ready to faint from exhaustion.

"Gin, I need a new dress."

Hermione had vetoed several disgusting shades of yellow-green that made her want to go 'Blergh!', one yucky shade of burnt orange, and a funky combination of purple, pink, and green sequins. Almost everything else either was too revealing or showcased her butt as one giant blob of blubber. She was not a vain person, but at the same time, she wasn't going to give Draco the satisfaction of looking better than her if she could prevent it.

After what felt like ten hours, Hermione and Ginny finally settled on a bespangled gold dress that didn't bare too much skin. It had far too much glitter on it for her taste, but it was the only way Ginny would let the coverage be modest.

"You're trying to attract a wizard, not make them ignore you," the redhead reprimanded.

_Actually, I want them to ignore me._ Her life had been so much simpler when she hadn't been involved with anyone.

~~~\~~~

Finally, next Saturday arrived. Ginny fussed over every inch of her, making sure that the skirt of the dress hung just perfectly on her hips and hugged her legs just enough without restricting movement. Hermione was ready to hex her if she came anywhere near her hair or face with her wand, though she didn't like the thought of hexing her best friend. Her hair was fine, thank you very much. She liked it a little unruly. And she refused to wear any makeup at all, much to Ginny's apparent pain.

"Just a _little _bit?" Ginny pleaded. "So many people and cameras will be there!"

Hermione vigilantly eyed the offending wand, which crept closer to her face.

"No, Gin. If that wand comes anywhere near me again I'll disarm you and hide it."

Ginny sighed dramatically. "Alright, alright. But when your picture gets in the paper and your complexion looks horrid, don't whine to me about it."

Hermione snorted. As if she had _ever _cared about her complexion in a photograph.

"Let's just get this over with, yeah?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "For someone who begged me for help getting ready, you seem to be dreading this."

Hermione tilted her chin defiantly. "I'm only going because it benefits your father, you know that. And honestly, I'm waiting for Malfoy to slip and say something horrid."

"Aha!" Ginny crowed. "I _knew _this had to do with Malfoy! You've been glancing at those articles so often, something _had _to be up! You're jealous, aren't you?"

"I am not!" Hermione defended truthfully. If a girl managed to be honestly envious of herself, she'd deserve a medal, or a kick in the bunghole. Maybe both, just to be fair.

"I already told you, it's alright to be attracted to people you wouldn't necessarily date."

"I'm not jealous," Hermione repeated more sternly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Hermione. I'm your best friend. You can at least be honest with me, if not with yourself."

"I'm _not _in denial!"

Ginny gave her such a perfectly, ignorantly skeptical look that Hermione completely lost it. It was the only explanation for her outburst.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, I am _not _jealous and I am _not _in denial about it because it is literally impossible for me to be jealous of _myself_!"

Hermione's fists were clenched by her sides to keep her control. She glared at her best friend with everything she had, nostrils flaring, and her face was probably completely red. But none of that had stopped her from blurting out her until-then best kept secret.

The fact that the normally feisty and ferocious Ginny was staring dumbly and merely blinking made the brunette realize _exactly _how far she had let the ball drop. This was bad. Really, really, really, really bad.

"You?" Ginny finally managed after several uncomfortable minutes. "_You _are Malfoy's mystery witch?"

Hermione cringed, but sighed and nodded. It was better to come clean now rather than later.

"Yes. But he's being his usual melodramatic self and milking the attention for all it's worth. You remember him back in Third Year with Buckbeak. He hasn't changed in that regard."

Then Ginny got angry. "Hermione Jean Granger!" she fumed. "I _specifically _asked you if you were having _any _sort of relations with _any _wizard and you just so happened to _forget _to mention that you had been dating _Draco bloody Malfoy_?" she screeched, rather like her team's namesake.

Hermione winced at the impressively high pitch. "I'm sorry, Gin! I _swear_ I wanted to tell you, but if I told you _that_, I'd have to explain what happened at Hogwarts, and then you'd be _furious_ with me because of what I did to Ron, and I couldn't even _bear_ the thought of your family disowning me because of such a _stupid_ mistake but I was depressed and not thinking at _all _until—"

Ginny walked over and clamped her hand over Hermione's mouth, silencing her rambling.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Alright, missy. You have a _lot _of explaining to do."

Ginny led her over to the bed and sat down next to her. "Now what's this about what you did to my brother? You both told me it was mutual because you just didn't work out, especially since he kissed Lavender."

Hermione squirmed. "Well, yes. He did. And that is one reason we ended it. But Ron still doesn't know the other reason."

Ginny leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity at this newest piece of shameless gossip, which made Hermione blush and stare at the floor.

"And that is?"

"I kissed Draco. More than kissed, actually. We almost…had sex. Almost. He was too much of a prat for me to go through with it, but it was close enough that I felt like I had. I couldn't really do anything with Ron without thinking about what I had almost done with Draco, and so we just collapsed because Ron felt the same about Lavender. We both ended it for our own reasons."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "And when was this? You and Malfoy."

Hermione bit her lip and toed the rug. "Night before Graduation."

"_While_ Ron was snogging Lavender?" Ginny gasped.

Hermione nodded.

"Oh _Merlin_!"

Then she frowned as something occurred to her.

"So why is Malfoy saying you're dating exclusively?"

Hermione squirmed again, but then decided she was already in too deep to stop now, and it felt so incredibly _good _to finally tell someone. So she launched into the whole story of how she and Snape hadn't been able to get along well enough, which was how she met Professor Morgana, who was Draco's great aunt, and the little red book that had been the harbinger of her doom. Then she got into Draco's arrival and the chaos that had followed. By the time she had finished, two hours had passed.

"We're late!" Hermione exclaimed guiltily.

Ginny waved her hand dismissively, smirking. "Don't you know you're supposed to be late to your own party?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but then smiled apologetically. "I really am sorry I didn't tell you until now, but do you at least understand why I was afraid it would all get back to Harry and Ron?"

Ginny nodded. "I forgive you because I am the first person you've told. And you're right. I probably wouldn't have been able to keep my mouth shut with Harry having a go at Malfoy whenever he thought of a clever remark. What exactly are you planning on doing tonight? Clearly you don't want him back, but do you really think talking to him again is going to help?"

Hermione stood up, straightening out her spine. "I'm going to tell him exactly what I think of this little game of his. And while I'd prefer nobody know I'm the mystery witch, if he uses it against me, I'll make sure he knows his 'generosity' was all for naught."

Ginny chuckled. "I'd pay to see that. Shall we?"

The two grabbed their purses and apparated to the party.

~~~\~~~

"You haven't even talked to Malfoy yet, have you?" Ginny accused some hours later.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I haven't even _seen _the git."

"You're not _going_ to see him if you merely hang around the Honeydukes chocolate fountain."

"That's not true! I've taken seven walks around the perimeter of the room."

"I never thought I'd see the day Hermione Granger was afraid of telling off Draco Malfoy," Ginny teased.

Hermione sighed. "Alright, alright. You're right. I'm terrified I won't be able to control myself around him. It used to be so easy when I thought he was as attractive as a chunky, soggy biscuit. But now…"

"He's one gigantic slab of gorgeous?"

Hermione pursed her lips at Ginny's grin. "That's one way of saying it."

"Miss Granger, how lovely it is to see you again."

The two girls had been so focused on themselves that they hadn't even noticed the tall black wizard smoothly approaching Hermione.

Ginny tilted her head, trying to place him, but Hermione recognized him instantly.

"Mr. Zabini," she nodded courteously. "How are you?"

He smiled, and Hermione noted that more than one Slytherin had matured into a very handsome man.

"I would love to catch up over a dance, if you are amenable."

Hermione bit her lip. She still irrationally felt like she would be cheating on Draco, but dancing with a person was not cheating, in any sense of the word. At least, assuming the dance was a respectable one with an appropriate distance. She imagined dancing with Draco under starlight in a very not appropriate way before mentally shaking it away. Thinking like this was going to drive her mad.

"Oh go on, Hermione. I'll be right here when you get back," Ginny urged.

Zabini held out his hand with a gentlemanly swoop and Hermione placed her hand in his before she could talk herself out of it.

"Do you know," he started when they were on the floor, "that Draco has been staring at you since you arrived?"

Her hands involuntarily tightened on his hand and shoulder. "No, I had no idea he had noticed my arrival," she said stiffly.

"Everyone had noticed your arrival, Granger. You look simply exquisite in that dress."

She blushed and stared over his shoulder, avoiding his intense gaze. She felt like she was being interrogated, but he had only asked one question.

"Thank you. You're too kind."

"I'm not kind. I'm merely stating a fact."

She saw him smirk in her peripheral vision and it reminded her too much of Draco's smirk. God, she was a lovesick fool. He was everywhere.

"Then we agree to disagree," she stated with finality.

He raised a dark eyebrow. "You don't think you deserve such praise?"

She bit her tongue to prevent a very rude remark about _exactly _what Zabinis typically thought of muggle-borns from escaping her lips. If Draco could change his views on muggle-borns in general, why couldn't the other Slytherins?

"No, I do not," she finally answered with a slight edge to her voice. "I have been told more times than I care to remember that I am nothing remarkable to look at, so please forgive me if I seem too modest."

"For what it might be worth, I do apologize for the behaviour of my fellow Slytherins in school. Many of us were led astray by our parents, and it had never occurred to us to question their beliefs. Until Draco did, of course."

And there it was again, another mention of Draco. Was she being tested?

"It's quite alright. We were all children during the war. I doubt I would have fared much better if I had been born into any of your positions."

He smiled. "You are too kind."

Her lips tilted up against her better judgment. "Just stating a fact."

It certainly seemed like she was passing whatever test was happening, but one could rarely ever tell the true thoughts of a Slytherin.

Hermione recognized the song was nearing its end, and she was almost sad. Zabini wasn't such a bad bloke when he was trying to be civil.

"Mind if I cut in, Blaise?"

Her heart nearly skipped a beat at the familiar tenor. It took all of her willpower to stand motionless, still staring over Zabini's shoulder. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm under his gaze.

"Of course, Draco. Do be careful, though. This one has quite a bite when she's feeling testy."

Zabini caught her eyes and he subtly winked. She smiled back tightly.

Another song began and Draco led. She was just as nervous as she had feared, and didn't dare to be the first to speak. It took enough effort as it was to not jump into his arms and inhale his scent. God, she had missed it.

She closed her eyes and tried very hard not to look like she was greedily inhaling every pheromone.

"You came," he said softly. "You actually had me worried there, for a couple weeks."

She opened her eyes and immediately switched her focus to his eyes instead of his scent, though that still lingered, fogging up her brain. How many times had she stared into those eyes while he brought her to bliss and back? She couldn't even count them anymore. It might as well have been one million, four hundred thirty five thousand, and sixty eight. She didn't know.

All she knew was that her body was already responding to his mere presence, to his palms and fingers touching her. Her waist felt like it was a localized fire, threatening to burn her up through her dress. His fingers flexed against her side and her stomach flipped. She focused very intensely on his face, because the memories threatened to consume her just as readily as his touch. She was lost in memories of passion, but hanging on for dear life anyway.

"Why are you doing this?"

She hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, so small and helpless. She had had every intent of marching in here and yelling at him for all the world to hear about his trickery and manipulations.

He frowned. "Doing what?"

"_This_," she hissed, glancing around. Angry was much, much better than pathetic. "This _farce _you've concocted about how you're oh-so-loyal and patient, _waiting_ for me to finally realize how _good _you are. How you've _changed_. You, Draco Malfoy, haven't changed one bloody _bit_!"

He raised an imperious eyebrow. "Funny you should say that, seeing as how you're the one person who has seen _exactly _how much I've changed since school, aside from my own mother."

"Have you? You're trying to trap me into your bed again by donating money! How, exactly, is that different?"

"You know very well how that's different, as I never would have looked at you if I were the same as before. But more importantly, I'm not just trying to keep you in my bed."

"Not just? What else are you attempting, then?"

His stare turned intense. "I'm donating money to keep you in my life. I don't care if I have to give away half my fortune if you promise not to let it end this way."

As Ron would say, oh bloody hell! This was _not _how this was supposed to go! He wasn't supposed to be sweet and serious and looking at her like she were the bloody _sun _and he a lowly plant trying to catch at least one of its rays. Like she were the only thing that existed in his world aside from himself.

It would be too easy. It would be too incredibly easy to let herself hope again. He had never confessed anything so blatantly to her before, or at least anything of this magnitude.

She couldn't even remember what it felt like to not want him, both physically and emotionally. She was left speechless by both her own overwhelming desire to be with him and the gravity of his words.

"Please, Hermione," he whispered intimately, drawing her closer and giving her two more reasons to stay speechless, "let me show you how serious I am about this. The article wasn't a farce of any sort. I know Weaselette doesn't approve of me, but I can prove to both of you that I am capable of being only yours until such a time as you no longer want me."

She could only stare, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in amazement. Every cell in her body was screaming to drag him to the nearest dark corner and have her way with him now and forever. He finally wanted to be her boyfriend. _Finally_.

But it still didn't sit right. It was all well and good for him to _say _he wanted to commit to her, but did he truly understand the ramifications of a monogamous relationship with her? He was going to have to get along with Harry and Ron. She was going to have to get along with his mother. Even if he managed to sway Ginny, her brother hated him with a devotion that martyrs would envy. Ron had never managed to let go of the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, especially their rivalry with Draco, so Hermione didn't think it would be so farfetched for him to say 'over my cold and rotting corpse,' and mean it as literally as possible.

How had she forgotten? Harry and Ron would never accept him. It was a miracle that Ginny didn't mind so much, but then again, she had never had the same intense rivalry with him as The Golden Trio. Hermione Granger had let her emotions rule her, and this was where she ended up, wanting a wizard who could never fit in with her life, her family. Not to mention the absolute _fit_ her father would have when she wrote home to say she had gotten involved with the same little boy who had called her names, hexed her (even if he had been aiming for Harry), and made her life miserable as much as possible.

Her father would make her choose, would see her as wanting to break ties with the muggle world altogether. He would think he was losing his sweet, innocent daughter, his only child, to some hooligan boy with honeyed words and corrupting touches. He would be so, so angry with her, and worst of all…disappointed in her.

The tears built up behind her eyes and she knew she had to leave, quickly.

"I can't," she choked out, yanking her hands from Draco's firm grip and swiftly weaving between the dancing couples.

She made it over to the punch bowl in record time, grabbing Ginny's hand and pulling her away from some Italian wizard, giving him a quick apology.

"Hermione, slow down!" Ginny hissed. "You're making a scene!"

Indeed, people were unabashedly watching them dash out of the manor.

"It's too late to go back now," she whispered. "It's far too late."

As soon as they had passed the wards, Ginny held Hermione tightly and insisted on apparating them both back to Grimmauld Place. Hermione let her, as she was too busy sobbing to properly object.

***/***

I can't.

What exactly did those words mean, anyway? She was not able to? She was physically incapable of giving him a chance? Well, a second chance, or maybe even a third to be perfectly honest. The first chance had been when they had first met, but he had been too eager to be his father then. The second chance had been Graduation Eve, but he had ruined that, too. No, this was the fourth chance, because the third had been when she was actually shagging him. He had actually had her, then let her go, and now he wanted a fourth chance, but she was reluctant to give it.

He could understand her hesitation. Four chances was a lot to ask.

Perhaps he wasn't good enough for her after all. Perhaps Draco Malfoy had finally found a witch who was out of his league.

The rest of the ball passed swiftly. He threw himself into as many conversations as possible to cover up the fact that never in his entire life had he felt so alone. Even when The Dark Lord had taken over his home, he had still had Pansy and Blaise to fall back on, to comfort him.

But this felt like there was a dementor residing inside him, sucking out every good emotion he had ever felt. He felt…desolate. Cold and desolate.

~~~\~~~

**A/N: **This week's assignment is something fluffy (please be a little more creative than a three headed dog or a cat named such, you smart-alecks out there!), a proverb, and a piece of clothing. Until next time!


	12. Step 10: Keeping Him Entertained

**A/N:** DON'T SHOOT ME! Or inflict any other harm on me, please! I know I deserve it, but hear me out. My boyfriend and I have been toying with the idea of buying a house together for a while now, but he's suddenly decided we should seriously start looking like right now. Thus, the past month has been spent scouring the interwebs for our dream home, which (as all of you who have been through it know) sucks up time quicker than a black hole. If anyone has any tips they'd like to share, please do! We've been interrogating our families with a bazillion questions, so any advice is welcome. Also, my new compy came back from being repaired again and was _still _broken, so I just gave up and demanded my money back, which the company fortunately didn't even argue about because of all the crap I've had to put up with. Therefore, because of the above, I figured it'd be better to post asap, so that means I haven't worked in any of your answers to last time's prompts. As I read them over, though, I realized they'd all be better suited for next chappie, anyway, so there'll be no homework this time.

Now onto the **reviews**!

dead-is-the-cat - No, I don't think you have mentioned it. But I love you, too! By the way, your name is a Schrodinger reference, right?

Divess - I don't blame you. The only thing I can say in her defense is that, not only is my version of Hermione ridiculously stubborn, she is also emotionally damaged. I don't think it realistic at all that she would come through the other side of the Second Wizarding War without _some _type of crippling phobia. In this story, the trauma of the war amplified her fear of losing her friends to the point of dependency on Harry and Ron. Even though she has Ginny, Harry and Ron were with her from the very beginning, whereas her friendship with Ginny came a little later. Her boys are her pillars of strength, so without their approval, she's terrified of crumbling to nothing. It's irrational, yes, but aren't most phobias?

Kermit304 - You are absolutely correct, my dear, on all counts. As I said above, Hermione's flaw is that she's too emotionally dependent on her friends and family because of her fear of losing them and ending up alone. Rest assured that Draco is not the type to give up so easily, so he will give her a reason to fight against her fears! Thank you for sharing your thoughts!

insomania - Please don't cry! I promise it'll get better! Take heart in that you're right; it had to happen, but only because it motivates Draco to stop messing around now. He's gonna start stepping up his game! Never fear, there will be more Dramione! Banter, especially.

DramioneObsessed - Thank you! I like how candid your username is. Obsessed and proud of it! Cheers! Thank you so much for reviewing!

HermionenDraco368 - Thank you! I like to think I understand their characters pretty well. The main reason I even started writing my own Dramione fics was because I read too many that I didn't think were as spot on as they should have been. Course, we can argue about the 'correct' characterization of Dramione until the cows come home but the fact remains that even if most of us did settle on one personality for Hermione and Draco, people would still break out of that mold because they think their version is better. I'm just one out of thousands of Dramione fans sharing what she thinks Dramione would be like, hoping that other people like reading it. Please keep reading and reviewing! I love reading other people's thoughts on my stories.

Soxylady - Thank you! I know the feeling, and I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting! Will this chapter tempt you to forgive me? I don't know how many more chapters there will be, but it's definitely not over yet!

Ambur -  NOOOO! Please tell me I'm not too late! I'm sorry! The Headless Hunt isn't worth it! Don't do it! Seriously, though, I am sorry I took so long. But thank you so much! I'm extremely flattered you think so highly of this!

Finally, without further ado...

~~~\~~~

Step 10: Keeping Him Entertained

_You would never know it from their impeccable table manners, but Malfoy men love to play with their food. They are the cat batting at the spider for its own amusement, watching it roll over and get back up, only to roll it over again for hours until something else catches their attention. In other words, when they are not chasing something, they grow restless. This is why most of them are promiscuous gits, relishing the conquest and feeling dreadfully bored afterward, anxious to leave and move on. This is also why this book is called How to _Marry _a Malfoy, as opposed to How to Sleep with a Malfoy or How to Have the Best Night of Your Life with a Malfoy or How to Make Every Other Lover Pale in Comparison to a Malfoy or How to Ruin Yo__ur Life Chasing After a Malfoy._

_But I digress. The main quality a Malfoy looks for in a mate is entertainment value. Not that he isn't shallow as a puddle under the blazing sun; he still chooses only from the most beautiful of witches. But if, let's say, it's a choice between a buxom blonde who will let him do anything and everything without a single complaint, and a feisty brunette who argues with him over every little thing, he is much more likely to choose the brunette, not because she is more beautiful, but because arguing with her could amuse him for hours on end. But be careful not to argue just for the sake of arguing. If your argument fails to be logical, he'll swiftly talk you into a corner and make it painfully obvious how insipidly idiotic you are, which will make him lose interest in you. Therefore, if you want merely the best shag of your life, then you've already achieved it, so go find something else to waste your life on. But if you want the Malfoy to be devoted to you forever, find a way to keep him entertained, such as putting more distance and obstacles between you and declaring that you never wanted him anyway. Refer back to Step 2 and taunt accordingly. Remember how I said Malfoy men love a good chase? They love it so much, they're always eager to do it again. _

_~~~\~~~_

Draco had honestly expected something to happen, someone to notice that she had been his mystery witch. It must have been so incredibly obvious that they had danced together so closely and he had donated an outrageous sum of galleons to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, headed by none other than Arthur Weasley. Anyone with half a brain could have concluded it was Hermione Granger.

But nobody had noticed. Or rather, everyone had noticed and thought it nothing out of the ordinary, further confirmed by Hermione's dramatic exit. Apparently, the intensity of their conversation had come across as taunting and forced civility to everyone else, so they told themselves it was such a shame that school rivals could never quite get over their grudges.

Then again, what else should they have concluded, with Hermione Granger running away in tears after spending any amount of time exposed to Draco Malfoy? On second thought, it didn't seem so obvious after all.

"Botched it up again, I see," his aunt commented as he entered her personal drawing room. One hand was petting that bloody cat and the other was writing a letter.

Draco scowled. "I haven't botched it up. I'm just getting started."

Professor Morgana barked a laugh. "That's what you all say, you men. Everything that happens, you've intended all along."

He had never actually figured out _how_ she had deduced his intention to pursue Hermione, but he was pleased nonetheless that she approved. She had casually mentioned after Hermione had left that the manor hadn't seen a ball in decades, and it was high time to have one. She had let him do the rest of the planning, but her smug demeanor gave him the impression that perhaps she had more to gain than bragging rights. There was a particular reason why she hadn't put up the tiniest fight. He already knew that she adored the Gryffindor as her own daughter, so perhaps she wanted to ensure that the two of them got along, as he was her heir. It would certainly explain why she had insisted on him passing along messages so often.

He suddenly remembered that very first day when he had arrived at the manor, and his aunt had demanded that he be the one to fetch Granger for breakfast. Then he recalled the seemingly unimportant comment she had made later that he could do worse than marry Hermione. He narrowed his eyes as the last piece fell in place, connecting them all.

The two of them had been set up! But was his aunt working alone, or were there others in on the conspiracy? He hadn't heard a single peep about marriage prospects from his mother in _ages_, but she could be content for the moment that he was busy trying to clean up his father's messes. Merlin knew she would prefer to have their reputation back to pristine condition before courting other influential families. There wasn't enough evidence to indicate one way or the other, but he couldn't stop the relief he felt at the thought that perhaps his mother would adore Hermione as well, muggle-born or not.

"Has Uncle Titus said when he is due to return?"

"Soon. Don't get too impatient, boy. I'm not dead yet."

Draco allowed his eyes to roll as she had her back facing him.

"Don't roll your eyes at me. Your mother taught you to be polite."

He only just held back a biting remark that his mother had also taught him not to respect half-bloods. Then again, that could have been only because his father had been listening.

"So what are you going to do about it?" His aunt asked bluntly.

"What?"

"The girl isn't going to catch herself. Are you going to languish over your failure, or are you going to fix it?"

Draco glared, familial respect be damned. "I didn't fail. It's merely a minor setback."

His aunt scoffed, which only irritated him further.

What the bleeding hell did _she_ know, the cranky old hag?

He wasn't anywhere _close_ to giving up on Hermione, anyway.

He had tried his best to be noble and proper about it, throwing a grand ball (several, actually) and donating loads of galleons, dancing with her and persuading her with sweet words, but that hadn't worked.

So, he'd just have to try a different approach.

Sheer perseverance would lead him to success. If his ancestors had simply given up every time they had heard the word 'no', the Malfoys never would have become as rich and influential as they had been.

She had said, 'I can't', not 'I won't', so she clearly wanted him just as badly as he wanted her; there were just obstacles in the way.

He had caught her once, and now he knew her better than ever. He could most certainly catch her again. He'd just have to be clever about it, rather than noble.

He smirked.

Let the second hunt begin.

***/***

"Do you want to talk about it now?" Ginny asked abruptly, reading the _Sunday Prophet_.

Hermione glared, but huffed sulkily at her morning hash. "I don't know."

Ginny sighed. "What did he say this time?"

Hermione shook her head miserably. "Everything. He said everything that I had been desperately hoping he would say."

Red eyebrows shot up. "Then what was all that rushing about to leave for?"

"Because it would never work! He was so _perfect_, standing there and telling me how much he wanted to actually _try_ and I just froze. I could actually picture us together, but I couldn't see anyone else except you being happy for us. I can't lose everyone just because I'm twistedly attracted to my former tormentor!"

"Hermione, do you realize how much money he donated to my father last night?"

Hermione blinked. "What does that have to do with anything? He'd said he was going to donate loads of galleons, hadn't he?"

"Five million galleons."

"Five _million_?"

"Five _million_."

"But," Hermione spluttered, "that's..."

"More money than that office has seen probably ever. And do you know _why _he did it? Because he wants you to give him a chance. Don't you think it's worth a chance at least?"

Hermione bristled. "Oh, so just because a Malfoy threw some money around, I'm supposed to just forget everything he's ever done to me?"

Ginny snorted. "Oh, and _you're _such a saint? Remember that time you Confunded McLaggen so Ron would get the Keeper position? The time you brewed Polyjuice Potion just to sneak into the Slytherin Commons and interrogate Malfoy? The time you scarred Marietta Edgecombe's face for life because she snitched on the DA? You've impersonated a Ministry employee to sneak into the Ministry to _steal _the necklace right off of Umbridge's _neck_! You straight out _lied _to her at Hogwarts to lead her to the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. And that's not even counting the fact that you started the DA, which was _illegal_."

"It hadn't _started_ _off_ forbidden!" Hermione finally protested.

"But you continued it even when it was," Ginny countered.

Hermione huffed.

"Look, I'm not saying you didn't do those things for a good reason, but maybe Malfoy had his reasons, too."

"Yeah, his reason was that he's a git," the brunette retorted petulantly.

Ginny laughed. "Merlin, Hermione, you're practically in love with him, aren't you?"

Hermione sighed. "Probably. Maybe. I don't know."

"The way I see it is, if everyone _did _accept him, you wouldn't be here right now, would you?" Ginny pointed out.

Hermione bit her lip. "Probably not."

"So what are you waiting for, then? He can't convince Harry and Ron that he cares about you by himself, you know. He'll need your help to keep them calm when they find out."

"But my father-"

"Will accept your decision if he truly loves you," her best friend scolded. "You don't doubt _that _do you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what's the problem? He's an adult now, but he was a child once. He'll understand that boys will be boys, but men take responsibility for their own actions, as he must've gone through the change himself."

Hermione frowned. "When did _you_ get so wise?"

Ginny shrugged, smiling. "I have six brothers, Hermione. I think I know the male developmental stages pretty well by now. If not from seeing them, then from the stories of them."

They sat in silence for a while, Hermione's brain trying to process all that Ginny had said and decide whether she was right.

"Thanks, Gin," she said eventually, fully appreciating how much Ginny cared about her happiness.

Ginny grinned. "You're welcome. Now are you finally seeing sense or do I have to continue to recount the long list of your indiscretions?"

Hermione blushed. "I still don't know about that, but what I do know is that I need to talk to my parents first. I need to go for a proper visit."

Ginny nodded. "Fair enough."

"Speaking of Draco, what did Lavender say about us this morning?"

"Nothing."

Hermione sighed. "Gin, don't-"

"Seriously, Hermione. Nothing. Not a single word of the article even implies that you were there."

The brunette frowned. "Let me see that."

She read the article carefully, and was astounded to see that Ginny was right. There wasn't a peep about her anywhere. All it did was speculate who the mystery witch was, because Draco had made the big donation.

"I don't understand," she muttered, completely at a loss.

"I think I do," Ginny ventured pensively. "Remember when you told me about Devon, and how you had escaped Malfoy in Diagon Alley?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course, I...told Lavender..."

"She owed you, in a way, for getting her that interview with him, and I bet this is her way of repaying you. You had been utterly embarrassed, and so she saved you by not saying anything."

"But why wouldn't she tell everyone that I'm his witch?"

Ginny grinned. "His _mystery_ witch, you mean?"

Hermione nearly gasped at her slip, but stopped herself. Was it really all that surprising, when she'd felt all along that they were together?

"I don't think she knows," Ginny continued.

The brunette's jaw dropped. "How can they _not_? We were dancing so closely!"

"It wasn't all that close, actually. And your face was stone for most of it, until the very end when you dashed off. You both hid your association quite well."

"And not a single person heard us?"

"You were under _Muffliato_, weren't you?"

Hermione blinked. "It must have been him, then. I didn't cast it." She couldn't help but feel a little impressed that he had either cast it wandless and nonverbally, or he had been so sneaky with his wand that it was as good as. She hadn't heard him mutter a thing.

Not that _she _couldn't do wandless and nonverbal magic, but she was so used to Harry and Ron taking _forever _to master even the simplest spells nonverbally, let alone wandless...

It was nice to know Draco was just as clever as she was.

***/***

"Blaise, I need your assistance," Draco announced immediately the moment he stepped through the Zabinis' fireplace.

Blaise raised a dark eyebrow, smirking. "When do you _not _need my assistance? You can't do _anything_ on your own."

Draco glared at the reminder of the war. "Yes, yes, you're my best friend forever and we can brush each other's hair later."

Blaise chuckled. "Alright, mate. What do you need this time?"

"I need you to feel out Weaselette."

Blaise choked on his drink. "Potter's fiancée? Have you gone _mad_? I don't have a death wish!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Feel _out_, Blaise, not _up_."

Blaise settled back down into his chair. "Oh, that's not so bad. What for?"

"I believe she knows about Hermione and me, so I want to know if she's for or against."

"Ah, a very important diplomatic mission. Very well, I accept. I shall charm her at the next Ministry event and give you my findings then."

Draco relaxed. Blaise always got the job done one way or another, and hopefully the Potter-to-be wasn't poisoning Hermione's thoughts of him. He had been working too hard for too long to let her go just because the Weasleys had decided their prejudices were correct. He didn't want to reveal the surprise early if he could help it, but he was quickly approaching that point of desperation to get Hermione back for good. If his surprise couldn't convince her to stay with him, nothing would.

***/***

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to come? I'll be awfully lonely without you," Ginny begged as she checked her makeup in the mirror.

"No, Gin. I can't risk seeing him there. It'd be...too much."

Ginny gave her best friend a stern look through the mirror.

"I'm telling you, you don't need to be so worried about what everyone else thinks! Draco's good, or else you wouldn't be in love with him. At the very least, go visit your parents like you said. I promise you're making it seem worse than it will be."

"But you don't know my father!" Hermione argued.

Ginny sighed. "We've been over this. Your father loves you. He'll understand that Draco has changed."

"But what if he hasn't? What if it's all one big joke?"

The brunette felt herself becoming more and more hysterical as the what ifs flew through her head at an alarming speed.

Her best friend stalked over and literally shook her out of it.

"Hermione Jean Granger, stop it!" Ginny shouted angrily. "What is _wrong _with you? What are you so bloody afraid of that you keep making up excuses as to why you can't let yourself be happy?"

Hermione looked up at the redhead and let the tears fall from her eyes uninhibited.

"What if he abandons me, too?" she whispered. "What if there really _is_ something wrong with me?"

Ginny's face fell as Hermione collapsed into sobs. "I'm going to _kill _my brother," she said under her breath, before grabbing hold of her best friend in a gigantic hug.

A while later, Ginny got up and cleaned her new dress robes of tears and snot with her wand.

"Now listen here, Hermione. You are an amazing witch and an even better person. You have _the _Draco Malfoy falling all over himself to be with you, Harry bloody Potter as a best friend, and two loving parents who have supported you in every decision you have made. They hated that you modified their memories, but their love for you and their understanding of protecting loved ones has kept them tied just as closely to you all this time. I _demand _that you stop pitying yourself because it's _disgusting_ how lucky you are! I refuse to listen to you whine any more about how it'll never work. The only obstacle standing between you and Draco is _you_!"

Hermione stared in shock, not sure whether she ought to be thankful for the honesty or offended.

"Now, I am going to the party and you have two choices. Either you are going into your room right now and getting dressed to come with me, or you are going straight to your parents' house to tell them you have fallen madly in love and want their blessing. So which is it going to be?"

"Parents."

"Alright then. Go make yourself presentable and we'll go to the Ministry to schedule a portkey."

Hermione shook her head and stood up. "No, you're right, Gin. I need to do this, but I should do it alone. Go to the party. Have fun. I'll see them tonight if I can. I promise I'm done hiding."

Ginny nodded. "Good. I'll see you when you get back."

Hermione hugged her. "Thanks, Gin. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Be utterly depressed and deprived," Ginny replied cheekily.

They shared a smile.

***/***

"Miss Weasley, may I have this dance?"

Ginny recognized the voice immediately and smiled.

"Of course, Mister Zabini."

She placed her hand delicately onto his outstretched palm and he led her to the dance floor. She kept the smile on her face, but her eyes searched his expression with the same intensity she used to tell whether her brothers were lying.

They danced in silence for a bit. She assumed he was sizing her up as well, and eventually she decided to get to the point, staring him straight in the eye.

"What would you like to discuss?"

He gave her a polite smile. "What makes you think I have anything to discuss with you?"

"The last time I saw you pull a Gryffindor onto the dance floor was when you spoke with Hermione, who ended up speaking with Malfoy and then ran off like a dementor was after her. You don't dance with Gryffindors unless you have business with them."

Zabini chuckled. "You Gryffindors are always so confrontational."

Ginny smirked. "Not always."

Zabini raised a dark eyebrow. "Indeed? Well, in this instance you happen to be correct. There is something I was curious about."

"And that is?"

"As you so astutely observed, Draco and Granger have had their issues recently, but I am curious about your perception of them."

Ginny narrowed her eyes slightly. It was rather easy to deduce that Zabini was on Malfoy's side, and he wanted to know if she was on Hermione's. What she didn't know was whether Zabini was acting alone as a concerned friend, or at Malfoy's request. Zabini had never struck her as a lap dog the way Crabbe and Goyle had been, but sometimes good friends could look like lap dogs because of the extent of their concern.

She decided that Zabini himself wasn't a threat to Hermione either way, so it would be alright if she put her cards on the table, so to speak.

"Are you referring to my perception of their relationship in general, or of their personal one?"

Zabini tilted his head almost imperceptibly. "Both," he decided.

"I think they're both being stubborn. They know what they want, but they're too afraid to reach out and take it," she said matter-of-factly.

"Both of them?" he inquired curiously.

She nodded. "Hermione, obviously, but Malfoy is being the same way, to a lesser extent. He knows perfectly well that she won't be won over merely with words or invitations to balls. He needs to show her that he cares about her as a _person_, rather than as an entertaining plaything. She has certain 'concerns' that Malfoy's affections are as arbitrary as they are intense."

The muscles around Zabini's mouth relaxed. "Your brother," he supplied.

"My brother," she confirmed.

"Does she have any other 'concerns'?"

"Not that she's said outright, but I know she won't know how to put his mother and her parents in the same room without sneering on either side. Her parents understand enough of pureblood prejudice to know that the Malfoy family in general don't deem her or them worthy, and are highly offended by it."

Zabini's eyes drifted to the side pensively before returning to hold her gaze.

"If you are amenable, I would like to extend an offer of mutual benefit, for us and for them."

"Go on."

"I happen to agree with you, and I think that together we can easily provide a nudge in the right direction without either getting _too _upset with us."

Ginny grinned. "What do you have in mind?"

***/***

"Hermione!" Jean Granger exclaimed warmly, opening the door. "How was your trip?"

Hermione stepped through the threshold and removed her light jacket. "Fine, Mum. I apparated, so there's no need to worry."

Her mother's lips pressed together just a bit and Hermione wished she hadn't mentioned it at all. She was so used to telling her mother everything that the truth usually came out without any filter whatsoever. Most of the time it wasn't a problem, but her parents' recent concern with magic made them more wary of any mention of it.

"Graham! Hermione's here!" her mother called up the stairs, then turned back to her daughter. "Are you staying for dinner?"

Hermione nodded. "I had planned on it, yes."

Her mother smiled again. "Lovely. It's been far too long, you know." She fussed with her daughter's hair affectionately. "How is your apprenticeship faring? You last spoke of a solution to bring back memories?"

Hermione grinned, happy to be back to the comforting gossip she and her mother often got into.

"Just perfectly! I've already completed the first recipe and sent it off to the hospital for them to test. And it doesn't actually give back the memories, so much as allow the brain to remember more easily by enhancing the feeling induced by déjà vu."

"Fascinating..." her mother commented interestedly.

"Pumpkin?"

Graham Granger stepped off the stairs and held his arms out. Hermione forced herself to walk over to him, instead of run. He always greeted her the same way, which evoked a nostalgia that made her want to run to him as she had when she was little. They wrapped their arms around each other and hugged tightly. He dropped a kiss atop her bushy hair.

"How are you? Not overworking yourself, I hope."

She shook her head as they separated. "Of course not, Daddy. Not too much, anyway."

He grinned. "That is the Granger way, isn't it?"

They made their way over to the living room to chat some more and catch up, but eventually Hermione's parents reminded her that she hadn't gotten the gift of intelligence all by herself.

"So, what brought about the sudden visit?" her mother asked.

Hermione bit her lip. "I have some...news that I'd like to pick your brains about."

Her father's expression darkened. "Good news, I hope."

The witch hesitated for a moment, but nodded. Yes, falling in love was decidedly good news, even if one's parents hadn't heard great things about the wizard.

"Yes, Daddy; it's good news."

"Then why do you sound uncertain?" her mother probed concernedly.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Because I'm afraid of your reactions, though I hope you'll be happy for me."

Her father's eyes narrowed. "There haven't been any...accidents, have there?" he asked suspiciously.

Hermione shook her head. "No! No accidents of any sort."

He relaxed. "Good. Then what is it, Pumpkin? It can't be that bad."

She gnawed on her lip. "Well, I...I've...fallen in love..."

Her mother gasped. "Hermione, that's _lovely_!" Then she paused. "But didn't you tell us you and Ron weren't working out?"

"Yes. Yes, we are only friends now."

"Then who is it? Someone we know? You said Harry was with Ginny, didn't you? Who else have we met, Graham?"

Hermione almost smiled, watching her mother try to guess before she could get the words out.

"Let her tell us, Jean; this is her news. Go ahead, Pumpkin."

Hermione swallowed. "Draco Malfoy," she rushed out.

Her mother's eyebrows shot up.

Her father frowned. "Malfoy...isn't he that boy you've complained about...the one whose parents don't consider us..._their _sort of people?"

The suspicious look was back with a sneer that was rather Malfoy-esque, but Hermione didn't dare comment on it.

"Yes, but he's stopped believing in all that blood rubbish," she mentioned quickly.

"And his parents?"

She opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything good to say that would ease her father's fears. She was rather convinced his mother _did _still hate her.

"What does Draco think of that?" her father pressed angrily.

"Graham," her mother cautioned, placing a hand on his tanned arm.

"He..." Hermione started.

What _did _Draco think about that? They hadn't really talked about his mother since most of their interactions had been about him pursuing her. He had announced that he had a love interest in the _Prophet_, but her name hadn't been made public yet. Was that truly for her benefit or for his?

She suddenly found herself doubting his intentions again. Sure, he had said at the charity ball that he wanted to date her, but he hadn't said whether it would be publicly or privately.

"No. Absolutely not! Hermione, you are better than a hooligan who feels ashamed to be with you just because his snooty parents-"

"Graham!" her mother reproached.

"-are ignorant enough to believe that we created an _incompetent_ woman! Arthur has assured me that _everyone _knows you're brilliant, so for those _people _to automatically _dismiss_ you is-"

"_Graham!_" her mother repeated sharply.

"Yes, dear?" he finally asked irritably, breathing heavily from his emotional rant.

"You are completely missing the point," Jean stated. "Hermione, does Draco love you as much?"

"I..." she paused, "I think so, yes."

"You _think_ so?" Graham scoffed.

Jean shot her husband a look before turning back to her daughter. "Why do you say that?"

"Well," Hermione fidgeted nervously with her beaded purse, "he's been...courting me for a while now and at first I didn't think he was serious about it. But now he's made it very clear he is, and would like to see me exclusively."

Saying it out loud made her realize _exactly _how arse-about-face they had gone about it. First they had shagged, then she fell in love, and now he wanted to date her. Thank goodness they hadn't gotten married first. That would have been an unmitigated _catastrophe_.

"But you're in love?" her mother pointed out.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I know it seems...out of order, to be in love before the first date, but I've known him for about eight years now and I see first-hand how different he is. He used to treat everything with derision or disdain because of his father, but he's become his own person now. He has finally decided for himself who he wants to be. He's still sharp-tongued with a dry sense of humour, but he's indifferent more often than malicious, and when he has a mind to, he is very passionate and supportive. I've never seen him more sincere about starting over with me, but I wanted to make sure I have your approval first."

"Of course you have our approval," her mother said immediately.

Graham looked offended. "Now listen here, Jean-"

"No, Graham," his wife said firmly. "I understand your concern, but we have raised a brilliant and level-headed daughter. She clearly cares enough about him to give him a second chance, and we are only speaking of dating, here. They are not eloping tonight. He must have done quite a _few_ somethings right to get her this far on his side. You remember how much she had ranted about him."

Graham grunted, conceding that was a logical presumption.

"Love, if you think he is worth another chance, then you have our blessing to see where it leads," Jean reiterated.

Hermione beamed, sighing in relief. She got up and kneeled in front of her father, hugging him.

"I know you don't like it, Daddy, but he's treating me well now and is making up for everything he did then. Mum's right. I wouldn't even look at him if he hadn't expressed any sort of remorse or apology. The Granger pride wouldn't have allowed it."

He smiled at her joke. "I love you, Pumpkin. I just want you to have everything you want and deserve."

"And I love you, too, Daddy. All I want is your patience, to see if he really is serious. You can give that little, can't you?" she wheedled.

Graham sighed. "Of course I can. You know I'd give you anything to see you smile."

Hermione rewarded him with an especially brilliant smile and kissed his cheek. "You're the best Daddy ever."

He grumbled but hugged her again. "I better be. But if he proves he doesn't deserve you-"

"Then the Weasleys and Harry will set him straight long before you can get to him," she assured.

"Alright then," he agreed.

~~~\~~~

When Hermione returned on Monday, she exited the hallway to the lovely sight of Harry and Ginny snogging on the living room sofa.

"Harry!" she exclaimed in shock at the back of his raven-haired head.

The couple detached and Harry turned to her, blushing. "Er, hi Hermione! I'm home!"

He and Ginny fixed their clothing before standing up, and Hermione rushed to hug him tightly.

"What happened? Did you lose?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, but I don't mind because I missed Gin too much." He looked at his fiancée adoringly.

Ginny beamed with so much love right back at him that Hermione felt her own heart ache for Draco. The reminder shocked her back into the present. How much had Ginny told Harry?

Hermione shot a discrete look at Ginny, who shook her head. The brunette relaxed. At least she could tell Harry when she was ready.

"So Ron hasn't bungled everything yet?" Ginny started, launching Harry into a detailed account of Ron's antics after she had left.

As Harry started talking, Hermione prepared herself to listen for a bit before making her excuses to go to her room. Ginny caught her eye and gave her an inquiring look. Hermione smiled reassuringly and nodded. Ginny grinned back smugly, before turning back to her fiancé with rapt attention.

~~~\~~~

"Remind me why I'm here, again?" Hermione asked Ginny as they and Harry strode through Diagon Alley the following Saturday.

"Because you spend all your free time cooped up in the house reading," Ginny admonished. "You're pale enough as it is."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the flimsy excuse.

"Because I want to spend more time with you, Hermione," Harry added.

The brunette raised an eyebrow. "You're going to spend all day in Quality Quidditch Supplies," she pointed out.

Harry blushed. "We're spending time together on the way there, aren't we?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Yes, I suppose we are."

"Besides, weren't you just telling me you needed a few new quills?" Ginny said.

"Yes, I did say that," the brunette agreed slowly, still not seeing the point. Surely Ginny hadn't so adamantly dragged her all the way out here for some sunlight and quills?

"Then go browse the bookstore after and we'll come get you when we're done," Ginny stated cheerily. She started pulling Harry down the right pathway before Hermione could even protest.

Hermione narrowed her eyes after them. Ginny was up to something, and it didn't look like Harry was in on it, judging by the way his fiancée was hauling him around.

For lack of something else to do, Hermione followed the redhead's advice. She stopped in the stationary store for some quills and parchment since she was there, then settled into Flourish and Blotts for some good old-fashioned bookshelf browsing.

She had just turned the corner of the Potions section when she bumped into someone.

"Oh, I'm _so _sorry! I didn't see you..." she trailed off as Zabini dusted himself off.

He smiled amicably, rearranging the few books in his arms. "No worries, Granger. It was my fault for walking so quickly. I was just checking on a few special orders and on my way out."

She raised an eyebrow. "You were checking for special orders in the Potions section instead of the front desk?"

His smile turned sheepish. "Well, alright, I was also going to see if any new Potions books came out this month. Draco's birthday is coming up and I need to plan months in advance. Classic case of what to get a bloke who has everything, you know."

The ache returned at the mention of his name before she was reminded of Ginny's words. Even though she had her parents' approval, she still wasn't jumping at the chance to tell Draco they could be together. She was being incredibly silly, she knew, but her insecurities weren't listening to reason. They insisted that if she never took Draco up on his offer, then she could pretend that he really was trying to court her properly, instead of possibly finding out some ugly, nasty truth about his intentions, or his shame, later.

She nodded automatically. "I feel that way with Harry sometimes. There aren't any new potions books yet, though there's one on improved antidotes for the more dangerous love potions I believe scheduled for next month."

Zabini nodded pensively. "Might be worth a look. Thanks, Granger." He paused as if something had just occurred to him. "Were you planning on buying it yourself?"

She shrugged. "I was thinking about it, but I'm not all that interested in love potions. Then again, it would be wise to stay up to date with antidotes for them."

"Then don't buy it, and I'll have Draco add it with these to the Library."

Hermione frowned. The way he had said 'library' made it sound capitalized, like he was referring to one specific place.

"I thought there were multiple Malfoy libraries?"

Blaise blinked at her. "There are."

"So which one are you referring to?"

"Blast! Draco's going to skin me alive! Just forget I said anything, Granger."

He made to move past her, but she blocked him. "What are you on about, Zabini? What library?"

"I really can't say."

"You already did."

"I can't say any more, then."

"I already know the gist of it, though. Hiding a few more details won't take it back."

The dark boy considered it, then shook his head. "No. I can't, sorry."

Before she could stop him, he was out of the aisle.

Then she remembered that he had implied he was taking the books he already had to the Library, wherever that was...

She knew Harry and Ginny would literally spend all day at the Quidditch store, so she figured it wouldn't hurt to follow Zabini for a bit. Worst case, he'd apparate so she couldn't follow him.

Surprisingly, he didn't apparate anywhere. Hermione was able to keep a safe distance in the crowds, but the streets weren't so busy that she lost him. Zabini led her to the Muggle side of The Leaky Cauldron, which intrigued her further. He had at some point shed his robes for Muggle business attire, so he blended in surprisingly well with those on the busy sidewalks.

She had stealthily followed him for no more than a half hour from The Leaky Cauldron, ending up in a rather upper middle class neighborhood. She only had time to notice it looked rather similar to her parents' neighborhoods, both in England and in Australia, before Zabini turned a corner. She hurried to keep up but then stopped dead.

When she had gotten to the end of the street, he had vanished. The only thing she could see was a rusting chain-link fence with faded white signs warning away trespassers in big red letters from the grassy field beyond it. She crept close enough to read the nearest one.

WARNING: PRIVATE PROPERTY

ENTERING BEYOND THIS POINT IS A HEALTH HAZARD. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW IF THEY SURVIVE.

Hermione grinned. The diction sounded normal, so no muggle would look twice at it, but the snarkily doubtful comment at the end gave Draco away.

There was something here, alright. But how could she get inside? There wasn't any gate to open.

She thought about Diagon Alley and the time the Snatchers had dragged her to Malfoy Manor. Those places required magic to enter, so maybe Draco had made this act the same way.

She stepped closer, reached a hand out to a clean spot, and shook the fence. It felt perfectly ordinary, the chain-links rattling against the frame. She drew her wand, tapped it on the metal, then shook the fence again.

Still solid.

She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at the sign, reading it over again.

"A health hazard," she murmured. For some reason, her eyes kept returning to those words, as if they were some sort of clue. Was she supposed to curse the fence or heal it?

She read the entire first line again. At first, it sounded like the property was dangerous, implying chemical exposure of some sort, but the more she read it, the more it sounded as if the fence itself were deadly.

Deadly as a venomous snake, one might say.

Would she have to speak Parseltongue?

No, not even Draco could do that. That wouldn't make sense. There wasn't even a carving of a snake to talk to, anyway.

Maybe it had something to do with venom or poison. Was the rust lethal? No part of the fence had jagged spikes, so she hadn't pricked herself.

She gnawed on her lip. It didn't make any sense!

She read the sign yet again but couldn't glean anymore information from it.

So she turned to the fence itself.

There was no clear lock, hinge, or opening. Only the brown and red chain-links.

Hermione peered closer. It had looked like normal rust when she had glanced at it before, but up close it looked...abstract. Like an impressionist painter had tried to make the color copper by placing red and brown right next to each other, instead of mixing them.

The closer she looked, the more peculiar it seemed. The brown was a dark, thick, muddy brown, almost like caked sludge. The red looked eerily like...dried blood?

Why was most of the fence covered with mud and blood?

Hermione blinked. Mudblood? _What_? What the bloody hell was he getting at?

She read the sign again.

WARNING: PRIVATE PROPERTY

It was segregated from the rest of the neighborhood.

ENTERING BEYOND THIS POINT IS A HEALTH HAZARD.

Because a Mudblood had been here? Lived here?

TRESSPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW IF THEY SURVIVE.

If they survive contamination?

Hermione scowled. Hadn't he stopped believing in this shite?

There was a disgustingly thick clump of the two elements over to the left. Just out of morbid curiosity, she grabbed a small section of the clump and crushed it between her fingers. It was definitely mud, but she wasn't sure about the blood part. It wasn't flaky or crusty the way old and dried blood ought to be. It just _looked _like blood.

She decided she needed a bigger sample of the 'blood', so she took a larger chunk. As her fingers dug into the clump, the tips bumped against something metal and solid. She would have thought it the edge of the fence, except she happened to brush a corner that was a ninety degree angle. No part of that fence was a ninety degree angle. She yanked off the glob her hand was clutching and wiped away some more off of the shiny surface to reveal more metal.

She blinked in surprise, pointed her wand at the half-muddy mass, and said, "_Scourgify_!"

Nothing happened.

"_Tergeo_!"

Still nothing.

She put her wand away and removed the rest of the mud and 'blood' by hand.

There was the lock.

Hermione burst out laughing.

That had to have been on purpose. If a wizard wanted to gain access, he would have to dirty himself by removing the mud and 'blood' the muggle way, by physical touch.

All of a sudden, the sign seemed much more sarcastic than it had sounded before.

She read it again, imagining Draco's dramatic drawl as he rolled his eyes. 'If they survive,' he had tacked on.

She grinned. She could appreciate the humour much more now that she realized it was more of a defense of her than an attack.

She wiped her hands on her trousers and tried tapping the lock with her wand.

"_Alohamora_."

The lock clicked, disappeared, and the gate swung open on invisible hinges.

Hermione frowned. It seemed like such a weak defense to bank on a wizard not wanting to touch some mud. She'd have to talk to Draco about his security measures if he didn't want anyone snooping...like her.

She blushed, but strode onward through the gate, which closed and resealed behind her.

She looked around, but all she saw was mowed grass surrounded by a forest.

Now where was that Library Zabini had mentioned? The field was _huge_. She couldn't have taken so long to follow him that she didn't see him disappear. Maybe he apparated to the real location?

The brunette huffed. What if he had known she would follow and had led her here to keep her occupied?

Bloody Slytherins.

That was when she heard it.

There was a rustle of something a little ways behind her.

She clutched her wand tighter and glanced around, listening intently.

Whatever made the noise broke out into a sudden run, if the pounding on the ground was anything to go by.

Instincts kicking in, Hermione ran, throwing hexes over her shoulder and around her sides, praying one of them hit her mark.

None of them did, or something really foul was chasing her, like an invisible acromantula or a bloody dragon.

Something, no, some_one _tripped her with a jinx and she dived to the ground, trying to avoid injury. She rolled to face her attacker and noticed the moving outline of a Disillusioned person.

She threw a few jinxes of her own, but the person blocked them, giving her time to get up and run again.

She didn't get very far before the person tackled her from behind. She turned her body so they both hit the ground. She was momentarily pleased to hear a grunted 'Oof!"

The person was definitely male, which only intensified her fear.

She managed the counter to his invisibility with a rather forceful jab to his person before her wand was thrown away from her. He flattened himself against her, trapping her on her back.

As the veil on his body lifted, she stared up into the smirking face of Draco Malfoy.

"Have you ever wanted to shag outside?" he asked.

~~~\~~~

**A/N2: **In lieu of homework this time, feel free to let me know how you think Hermione is going to react. Will she snog him? Hex him? Which hex would be most appropriate? Slap/punch/physically maim? Laugh? Cry? Also, I've decided that I'm going to start giving you guys writing updates on my profile regarding when I expect to post next and which stories I'm working on at the mo. We're not supposed to do author note chapters on the stories themselves, so I figure profile updating would be the next best thing, as long as y'all are aware of it. As always, a special thank you to everyone who reads and reviews! Y'all probably don't even know how happy you make me! So, until next time, lovies...


	13. Step 11: Building a Home

**A/N: ** Hello again, lovies! I'm sorry to say I couldn't fit in everyone's prompts, but I got most of them in and managed at least one suggestion from each person, so see if you can spot yours! I didn't want to spend another day trying to force it since I made y'all wait long enough, so for the suggestions I didn't include, thank you for sharing them anyway! It was fun trying to mix and match them together, and finding a place to put them in. As for the story itself, most of you agreed that Hermione should hit Draco for being a git and then snog him. While I agree that would be typical Dramione behavior, I decided to avoid the obvious cliché and go with something a little more inventive. I hope you like it! Now, onto the reviews!

**nikki98 - **No problem! Thank you for mentioning that! Sometimes I wonder if anyone reads the responses other than the person I'm responding to. I always read the author responses in other stories because even if I don't know what the original review said, the author usually lets slip tidbits about the story I wouldn't know otherwise, especially if there's no obvious place to mention it in the story itself. Do you think I should mention Hermione's fear in the upcoming chapters, or is it already past the point where that would be relevant? Let me know what you think! I noticed the same thing as you, that Hermione is usually written as some sort of saint, like anything she did was completely justified and isn't even considered bad. Sure, in the grand scheme, she had to break all those rules to save the Wizarding world, but just because Draco was on the other side doesn't make his actions any worse than hers. They were both in a war and became criminals because of it. Harry, Hermione, and Ron are all technically criminals, yet I hardly see any other fics mention that. I thought it was only right that Ginny snap some sense into Hermione because the bookworm isn't a Mary Sue; she has flaws and needs someone to lean on from time to time just like every other character. And Ginny is plenty kick-ass enough to be that pillar of strength for her. I see Ginny as all the awesome motherly-ness of her mum, but without the need to smother. She knows when to comfort Hermione and when she needs a right kick in the ass to get moving. And now I'm going to stop before I start another rant. Thanks for reviewing!

**Arangogirl - **Thank you! I do have plans for Ron to pop in soon, but I'm not sure exactly when. You can expect, however, that he's not going to be jumping for joy that Hermione's taken up with the Ferret. I don't know how many chapters this will go because I haven't written the exact ending yet, but my guess is that it won't go past twenty. There isn't much left for the plot, but the characters can run away with entire chapters, so we'll see where they lead me. Thanks for reviewing!

**Kermit 304 - ** Not necessarily! She can do wandless magic, you know. She can't do anything _really _complicated without a wand, obviously, but she can do simple charms and such. You'll see where that darned library is this chappie, which I hope you like, too. Thanks for reviewing!

**DramioneObsessed - **Thank you! Aw, that would be a great scene! I'm right there with you! Draco is such a great Romcom character, and not just because he's smoking hot and sexy, but because he's so witty and manipulative that it easily causes all sorts of chaos. But he's smart enough to recognize when to quit playing around, too, so it's easy to fall in love with him. Sigh...*ahem* anywho, thanks for reviewing!

Now onto the story!

~~~\~~~

Step 11: Building a Home

_As the saying goes, Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither are a Malfoy's affections easily won. But if you've made it this far, congratulations, you've accomplished the next to impossible, scheming your way into the elitist bloke's heart. The courtship is over. The game is not, however._

_The Malfoy family has many traditions that they have religiously upheld for centuries, but perhaps the most jealously guarded one is this: the declaration of intent to marry. It is a deceptively simple declaration when employed, though obscenely extravagant, and therefore surprisingly informative about the way a Malfoy schemes. No doubt you have heard of the infamously secretive Malfoy libraries? __They are not mere libraries, though the Malfoy family smugly perpetuates that theory, claiming they are hidden simply because they like their privacy. While that isn't the slightest bit false, neither is it the whole story._

_Malfoys, being the materialists everyone knows they are, can imagine no higher honor than being immortalized as the model for a statue, or as the namesake of a grand building. Some Malfoy ancestors even claim in their journals that they have been models for the statues of the ancient Greek and Roman gods, but those boasts have yet to be confirmed or denied as we all have better things to do than to test them. But that is beside the point._

_The point is that when a Malfoy has chosen his bride, he sets it in stone by building her a grand library inside a home named after the both of them, where they will live out their life together until they decide to build a manor of their own. For example, when Titus did this for me, he dubbed it the Malfoy-Morgana library. Thus, the Malfoy libraries, while most certainly being libraries, are also a home and a declaration of intent to marry, as the Malfoy only does so when he is irrevocably smitten and will not bear the thought of being without his chosen bride. After all, home is where the heart is._

~~~\~~~

Once Hermione realized it was Draco who had chased and tackled her, her fighting instinct relaxed to make way for her anger.

Her hand itched to slap the insolent smirk right off his pretty face for scaring her in the most dramatic way possible, but at the same time, she _was _trespassing on his property. He hadn't exactly come to tea and invited her here for an ambush, had he? She had pulled a Harry and followed a suspicious-looking person, and this was what she got.

On the other hand, he would have recognized her right away, so the whole invisible chase had been completely unnecessary on his part. He deserved to hurt a little bit for that. Honestly, who would claim to like a person and then chase them to make them fear for their life? _Completely_ childish.

"Hermione?" he asked amusedly, drawing her out of her thoughts.

She narrowed her eyes at him and huffed. "Did you _have _to give me a heart attack like that? Not to mention you're lucky my spells didn't hit you."

He chuckled. "You were far off the mark, trust me. In fact, I'm a little worried your instincts are going faulty."

Lying down or not, she was _not _going to take that. She full-on glared at him and tried very hard not to be distracted by the tips of his bangs almost brushing her forehead. If a picture painted a thousand words, then he most certainly should understand never to do that again simply by her facial expression. He always did have lovely hair, though, so soft and beautiful...he hated whenever a single lock fell out of place...

The triumphant smugness of his expression made her feel reckless enough to act on the sudden brainwave. If he wanted to steal her sense of safety, she could steal his. There's no honor among thieves.

She ignored his face and solely focused on his hair until it started hissing.

"Ah!" Draco jumped off her as he felt his hair changing. "What the bloody hell did you just do, Granger? Change it back!"

The sheer panic on his face as his precious hair had turned into a writing mass of white snakes with gold eyes made her laugh.

"THIS ISN'T FUNNY, GRANGER!" he shouted at her, simultaneously grabbing for his wand and trying to magic them away.

"_Finite! Finite Incantatem! Evanesco! _I think one of them just bit me! I'm _dying_, and all you can do is lay there and _laugh_?"

But the more he panicked, the more it reminded her of how he had dramatically moaned about being scratched by Buckbeak in Third Year. Soon Hermione was clutching her stomach and rolling around, emitting unrestrained peals of laughter.

Finally, she mastered herself and performed the counter with a wave of her hand. It had been a simple, realistic-looking Medusa costume charm she had read about in a costume book once when she and Ginny had considered dressing up for Halloween. Ginny had made a dry comment about how Hermione could easily be Medusa because her hair already looked like a tangled mess, and Hermione had shot back that Ginny better not be Cleopatra or she'd repeat history if she got too close. They had laughed afterward, but Hermione still remembered the charm because of that.

Draco frantically felt around his head to make sure he was snake-free before glaring at her.

"That was completely uncalled for," he commented haughtily.

She raised an eyebrow. "Just like how you clearly knew I wasn't a threat, but ambushed me anyway? Don't worry, they weren't venomous. It was just a glamour."

"Just for that, I don't think I'm going to show you what's here," he replied indignantly, getting up and dusting himself off.

"I don't care what's here. One library is just like any other library," she fibbed, copying him and then snatching her wand out of the grass.

He stopped. "I'm going to kill Blaise. You weren't supposed to find out what it was. Besides, I thought you'd _marry _a library if it were legal."

"And you'd marry a _mirror _if you could, just so you could stare at yourself all day, Narcissus," she sniped back. "Funny how that's your mother's name, isn't it?"

"I find it rather coincidental myself how your surname means 'farmer' and your hair is the color of dirt."

He stopped just short of the Mudblood implication, which was the only reason she didn't hex him again. How was it that he could so easily remind her of why she had hated him so much back in school, even while she was in love with him? Perhaps there really was a very thin line between love and hate, as he could switch her mood from one extreme to another with a single sentence.

She bristled and stepped forward, poking his chest with her pointer finger. "Now listen here, _Malfoy_, I've had enough of your bipolarity to last me a lifetime, so are you going to show me this library or not?" she demanded.

His lips instantly quirked up into a sexy smirk, and she struggled to keep herself angry. It was so unfair how a few muscle movements could make her feel just as bipolar as he was.

"Stop it, Draco."

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Just stop! It's not fair!"

"What's not fair?"

When she didn't answer him, his smirk grew wider and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up against him. Her fingers automatically sought purchase in his T-shirt, bunching it up in her fists.

"Is it perhaps the fact that you can't resist me when I charm you?"

She snorted, stubbornly avoiding his face, but made no move to escape his embrace. "You're as charming as a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

He bent his head down to press the lightest kiss against her neck. "Well, then. Since you can see through my façade, allow me to share with you my true thoughts. Did you know, _Hermione_," he practically purred her name, making her shiver, "that I get achingly hard when you use that prissy tone with me?"

She did vaguely recall him saying something of the sort when they had had their shag-athon back in March, and the memories did nothing to help keep control of herself.

"You might have told me once," she whispered.

She wondered why she bothered fighting it anymore. It always ended up the same way. He wanted her. She pretended not to want him. He did something incredibly sexy. She resisted. He seduced her. She gave in. Rinse. Repeat. It was the same old chase, the same old cycle. Absence made the heart grow fonder, but his proximity turned her into a nymphomaniac.

Why couldn't she have the upper hand for once? He clearly was easing his way to the seduction stage, so what if she just skipped ahead to the ending? If he got so aroused when she spoke to him with authority, then what if she acted like it, too?

Hermione bit her lip, thrilled with the idea of dominating him, just this once. He'd probably love it.

"It's true, can't you feel it?" he pressed their pelvises together.

Yes, she most definitely could feel it.

"Lie down," she said softly, hardly believing she was actually going to do it, yet ridiculously excited.

"Hmm?" he asked, busy nuzzling her neck and rubbing their bodies together.

She cleared her throat, feeling her heartbeat quicken. "Draco, lie down," she said firmly, before pausing. "_Now_," she added, pretending she were chastising Harry and Ron to do their homework, except she was most definitely not thinking of Harry and Ron.

Draco slowly lifted his head from her neck, raising an eyebrow at her, and she wondered if he was going to laugh at her. Instead, he did as she said, lying back down on the grass with his hands behind his head, and taunted her with a smirk.

She licked her lips as her heart rate kicked up a notch. Merlin, she could already feel herself being drawn into a power trip. _The _Draco Malfoy, notoriously stubborn and suspiciously accustomed to getting his own way, was obeying her every command right now. The mix of power and arousal was, quite frankly, intoxicating.

She kneeled down beside him and then straddled his hips a little awkwardly, but she managed to find a comfortable position. She merely sat atop him, savoring her excitement and the feel of his own straining against his trousers. She allowed herself to remember the glorious feeling of him inside her, letting arousal keep her warm and confident. It was a nice spring day, but the slight breeze would make it a tad chilly when they divested.

Was she really going to do this? It would be easy to let him take over like every other time.

No. She _wanted _this. She wanted _him_. In every way possible. If she wanted to have a go at a serious relationship with him, she would have to feel comfortable bossing him around. It's just how she was. Besides, he was a capable wizard. If he didn't want this to happen, he would have stopped it by now.

She shifted, preparing herself to dive right in, but became too easily distracted by the intensity of Draco's stare. He had been interested and curious before, but now he was fully invested in this, urging her to keep going. That was when she realized she had essentially been teasing him with her hips by moving around. It was so strange, being on top of him for once, but she decided she liked the way his light grey eyes darkened to charcoal below her. He was imagining her naked, and just the knowledge of it boosted her confidence.

She licked her lips and then crossed her arms to start lifting the bottom of her shirt. Draco's eyes immediately dropped to watch her reveal more and more skin, his hands skimming up her clothed thighs eagerly. His head lifted up a little more off the ground, subconsciously inching closer to her, as her shirt hem approached her breasts. She was just about to drag it over the curves and yank it off completely when a bird chirped loudly, reminding her they were outside.

Her self-consciousness rushed back like a cold wind, loosening her grip and letting the cloth cover her skin completely once again.

Draco's head dropped back onto the ground with a thud, accompanied by a disappointed groan.

"I can't do this outside. Anyone could be watching." Her eyes darted around, searching for anything suspicious.

"You don't think I actually _forgot_ to ward the place, do you?" he asked, highly offended.

"Did you?" she challenged, still sitting astride him. "I didn't feel myself break through a single ward!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's because I already attuned them to your signature. You didn't feel them because they aren't yours, yet you're allowed to pass. That fence has so many hexes on it to keep others out that I'd wager you couldn't even think of anything to add."

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "I most certainly _could _think of at least one."

"My point is," he said loudly over her, "you're perfectly safe within the boundaries. Nobody will see you except me."

"It's a holed fence, Draco, not a concrete wall," she countered.

"Didn't you see tall, overgrown grass and weeds before you walked through the gate? It's a highly advanced Glamour, Hermione," he retorted. "I did not build this in the Muggle world just to have the nosy gits butting into my business. I demand my privacy."

"Speaking of, where is it? I still don't see it."

"I'll show you later."

"No, you won't! Stop procrastinating!"

"It's not a big deal, Hermione. You'll see it eventually," he yawned.

"But I want to see it _now_!" she argued petulantly.

Draco smirked. "_Now_ who's being unfair? How about a compromise? I'll show it to you after you get off on me."

She raised her eyebrows. "Don't you mean, 'get off _of _me'?"

His smirk broadened. "No."

Hermione rolled her eyes and climbed off of him to stand up. "_Boys_," she muttered, smoothing out her shirt.

"I'm waiting, Hermione," he reminded her with a wicked grin.

"Fine, I'll find it myself," she huffed, turning around and stalking off toward the center of the field.

Draco sighed behind her, finally getting up off the ground and following.

"You're a bloody tease, you know that?"

"There's a very thin line between bravery and stupidity, and I think you're leaning toward stupid at the moment, for both saying that to me and getting your hopes up in a wide open area."

"So terribly sorry for entertaining such a ridiculous notion whilst you sat directly atop my prick," he drawled. "I can't even imagine how I got the idea in the first place."

She blushed, but pretended like she hadn't. "You're forgiven. At least you're learning from your mistakes."

"Bloody minx," he grumbled, before returning to his usual arrogant state. "You're not going to suddenly see it just by wandering around."

"Why, because you put the Fidelius Charm on it?" she joked, watching him veer off toward the left.

"Yes, actually."

She blinked before rushing after him. "Honestly?"

"Did you miss the bit where I said I like my privacy? Granted, my stunning good looks are rather distracting, so I suppose I can't really blame you for not listening."

She ignored him. "But the _Fidelius _Charm? On a library?"

"All Malfoy Libraries have the charm on them. Why else would nobody but a Malfoy be able to find them?"

"Because you're all devious enough to charm them as something else? Like an abandoned shop, or like St. Mungo's Muggle front."

He smirked. "That's awfully high praise, coming from you."

"Well, it would have to be the truth, if I were right. As you said, nobody else has ever pinpointed any exact locations, so it makes sense if that were because they were masquerading as something else nobody would think twice about."

"Sorry to dash your hopes of a complicated mystery, but it's because we simply hide them. Full stop."

"Do all Malfoys build their own library? How many are there? Is it a rite of passage, of some sort?"

Draco finally halted at a seemingly random spot near the left edge of the forest.

"No, I'm not telling, and...not really, no," he answered in order.

"Then what is its purpose? Why build one _now_?"

"You'll find out sooner than you think," he said with an infuriatingly smug smirk.

He whispered the address into her ear and the air some distance away from her shimmered. Right before her eyes, the shimmering spread, almost the whole length and depth of the field. Then the shimmering slipped to the ground, almost like an invisibility cloak sliding off, and an entire estate was revealed to her.

Directly in front of them was a pure white marble water fountain surrounded by smooth, stone benches. To their right, stretching almost all the way back as far as the clearing went, stood a fantastical garden, filled with all colors, shapes, and sizes of plants and bushes, many of which Hermione recognized as sources of potions ingredients and potent fragrances.

A cobbled walkway connected the fountain area to the centerpiece of the field further back, a large yet cozy-looking house with ivy climbing up a white trellis on the left side, where it looked like one room had a whole wall that was made of windows.

Completely entranced, Hermione followed the path to the house and slowly reached out to turn the golden handle on the door. It opened easily and swung inward as her eyes darted around, soaking in the new environment.

To her immediate right stood a coat rack, where she could easily imagine hanging her mackintosh or coat after coming in from the rain or snow. To her left, one wall was indeed made of three window panes stretching from ceiling to floor, with only the thinnest white plastic as a frame around them. It appeared that this room was the living room, as it had light blue walls, plush sofas, soft white carpet, and a medium-sized hardwood coffee table that practically begged her to jump into something comfortable and settle in for a whole day of reading by the window.

She finally tore herself away from that room to explore the kitchen to the right, which was all white marble countertops, open cabinets, and hanging pots and pans with light grey walls. The moment she thought the color reminded her of Draco's eyes, she suddenly turned, wondering where he was.

He was lazily leaning against the doorway, watching her with the same smug expression as before.

"I thought you said this was a library," she asked slowly, still awed by it all.

"I never said it was only a library."

He held out his hand, palm up, and she gravitated toward it without thinking, placing her hand on top of his. His fingers closed around it as he led her down a hallway that connected the kitchen to a staircase.

Nearly the entire second floor hosted the library, which had rows upon rows of bookshelves. There were ornate double doors at the far end of the room, which Hermione promised herself she would explore later, but right then, all she could focus on was learning the cataloging system.

She spent nearly an hour skimming the shelves, drawing a map in her mind of the various sections and puzzling out how the genres were sorted. When she felt she had succeeded in breaking the code, she noticed she had lost Draco again. She wandered through the stacks, eventually finding him in a corner with plush armchairs and a couple small tables. He had chosen to sprawl out over the dark green one while reading a thick tome.

"Finished for the moment?" He asked, looking up.

She nodded, blushing, and it struck her how amazing it was that he wasn't yelling at her for not paying attention to him. Ron had scowled at her whenever she had immersed herself in some bookish activity while they were dating, claiming she never appreciated spending time with him. Apparently, Draco was perfectly content to sit down with a good book to pass the time. And best of all, he recognized that she wasn't nearly done with this place, only ready for a short respite.

"What's behind the double doors?"

"Go see for yourself," he answered, returning to his book.

It must have been the master bedroom. There was a polished wooden vanity up against a beige wall to her right, as well as a medium-sized window on the wall adjacent to that one. On the left was a gigantic walk-in closet with hangers and shelves. In the center of the room resided an enormous four-poster bed with a rich, milk chocolate brown duvet and decorative pillows.

The posts suddenly reminded her of a ridiculous conversation she and Draco had had once about possibly trying out certain fetishes. They had debated about fluffy handcuffs, the multiple uses of a sari or scarf, when he could convince her to wear a bustier and a garter belt, the fun and trial of removing an elegant 17th century masquerade ball costume with his teeth, a particularly twisted way of using an ushanka on a Submissive, the time he had created a strap-on harness for someone (he had refused to say whom) using only a yellow polka-dot bikini and a pair of tights, and the reason why he would never again have sex on a fleece jacket or hoodie. She didn't even want to get into the time they had discussed food in the bedroom like meringue, a chocolate-marshmallow mixture, and even cotton candy lingerie, where there was no choice _but _to eat it off.

She shook her head to clear her mind and peeled back the bed cover to feel the softest Egyptian cotton sheets ever, matching the walls. She smiled to herself, realizing she had rather expected them to be pure silk.

"It reminds me of your eyes," Draco said from the threshold. "That's why I chose that particular color for the duvet."

Hermione turned around to face him, her brain furiously trying to keep up with the overwhelming influx of information.

"Draco, what is this place?"

"A library. That I also plan to reside in."

It was a perfectly logical answer, as it most certainly looked like a home with a library in it, but she just knew there was something else to it, something he was refusing to tell her.

"And?" she prompted suspiciously.

"And," he drawled, purposefully building her suspense, "a home you might possibly feel comfortable in at some point."

She sucked in a breath. Her mouth felt like a desert and her heart was pounding, but all her mental faculties only had enough power to register these trivial facts, as they were mainly concerned with the implications of this man's words.

"Are you...Draco...Are you asking me to move in with you?" she asked incredulously.

"No."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, disappointment settling in her stomach like a rock.

"I'm merely saying that this will be my new place of residence, and if you so happened to decide to spend some time here, whether an hour, a day, or a week, I would not be completely opposed to the idea. And if, after spending some time here, you decided that you rather prefer being here than anywhere else, we might be able to discuss the plausibility of a long-term arrangement-"

Hermione dashed over to him in a blink, stood up on her tip-toes, grabbed his face, and smothered his lips with hers to stop his incessant rambling.

The kiss was mainly driven by joy and elation, but Hermione was also pleased with the undercurrent of lust that still ignited every time she touched him. She was so lucky that the man she loved wanted her around permanently, even if he wouldn't openly admit it.

"Yes," she breathed against his lips when they broke apart for air. "Yes, I will move in with you."

He cleared his throat and stepped back a bit. "Now wait a minute, Hermione. Just because I say I want to take this slowly, does _not_ mean it's just for_ your _benefit alone. I have needs, too, and maybe _I'm _not ready for such an emo...tional...committ...ment..." he trailed off.

Hermione had backed up toward the bed, removing her shoes and socks, before pulling off her shirt in one swift movement and then unbuttoning and dropping her skinny jeans to the floor, gracefully stepping out of them.

She climbed onto the bed and leaned against the nearest bedpost on her knees, only in her lavender underthings and a smile. She couldn't describe the feeling that flooded her body with any one word, but she recognized it as part lustful, part mischievous, part blissful, and part determined. The words spilled out of her mouth without thought, but she meant every word.

"Draco, are you going to just stand there like a coward, or are you going to come over here and fuck me on _our _bed?"

He practically twitched, though she couldn't tell if it was in anger or lust. It was usually a combination of both with them.

"I am _not _a coward," he said, deadly calm, as he walked toward her, tearing off his own clothing. By the time he came face to face with her, he was entirely naked with a very obvious erection.

She licked her lips, leisurely looked him up and down, and then smirked. "Prove it."

He smirked back. "How many times will convince you?"

She clutched the bedpost tighter, feeling the arousal already building in her abdomen. She shrugged.

"I can be rather stubborn, as I'm sure you've noticed."

He suddenly wrapped his arms around her, pressing their bodies together and making her squeak in surprise.

"Well, fortunately, I am rather persistent with my arguments."

She only managed a moan as a response, because he had made them both fall backward onto the bed and immediately invaded her mouth, which hindered any plans of a coherent retort.

He didn't even bother with her bra, only yanking off her knickers and dipping a finger in to make sure she was wet enough before thrusting inside.

Usually, Hermione rather enjoyed foreplay before sex and not just for the obvious reason of preparing for intercourse. She always got a twisted sort of thrill from playing mind games with him as they competed to arouse the other to submission first. But this time, she didn't mind skipping that part. The furious pace he set gave her a primal satisfaction, knowing that her male was so aroused by _her _that he lost all self-control. It didn't hurt that he was hitting the exact spot that he knew made her mad with lust.

His hands and lips never stayed in one place longer than a few seconds, all the while keeping up the maddening pace so that Hermione basically gave up trying to keep track of it all. She let herself slip into that lower functional state where all she cared about was the pleasure she received and what she could do to make it feel even better.

He made her orgasm three times to his one before he rolled off to the side, both of them exhausted. They crawled under the blankets and settled in for a nap. She cuddled up to him, laying her head on his chest, and his fingers lightly stroked her hip, causing his warm arm to cage her body in place.

She fell asleep trying to remember a time when she had felt more desired, satisfied, and protected at the same time.

She awoke first but didn't bother moving. She spent a while basking in her boyfriend's cozy embrace, still awed at the paradise he had created for them. She took the time to recall everything she had seen outside, and their conversations, finally landing on one comment that hadn't been explained.

He had said that every Malfoy library was under the Fidelius for privacy. Did he mean that all Malfoy libraries were also homes? Were they built as a place to live for the Malfoy and his current girlfriend? It seemed like a remarkable gift for a mere girlfriend. No, it must be just for him, and he happened to like her enough to share it sometimes. He hadn't actually agreed to let her move in, after all. But it was so _perfect_...

Draco stirred, yawned, stretched, and then tightened his hold on her.

He seemed to be drifting off again, so she resumed her train of thought, hypothesizing on the possible purposes of the Malfoy libraries.

"I can _hear _you thinking," he interrupted, voice thick from sleep.

"Can you?" she asked amusedly. "And what am I thinking?"

"You're obsessing about what I said earlier."

She blinked, facing him fully now. "How did you know?"

"I say a great many things worth obsessing about," he drawled clearly.

She rolled her eyes. "Be honest, Draco. Did you build this house for me?"

"I did have you in mind when I had planned it," he admitted.

She eyed him shrewdly, pondering if he had actually answered her question.

He opened one eye. "Stop thinking, Hermione, or I'll make you."

She gave him a condescending glare. "And how, exactly, will you do that?"

He smirked. "Very easily," he replied, slickly rolling on top of her to capture her lips.

She sighed against his mouth, too easily succumbing to his persuasion.

~~~\~~~

**A/N2: **For next time, give me a home appliance, a piece of furniture, and a color. Thanks for reading and I'll see you next time!


	14. Step 12: Adapting to Your New Life

**A/N: **I won't lie to you, I'm not 100% happy with this chappie, but it's nothing I can fix anytime soon because I can't find a way to do it better, so it'll have to stay as it is for the time being. I figured I might as well post it, since I've made ya'll wait so long. I had originally planned this whole chapter in Hermione's POV, but I suddenly wanted to express some of Draco's thoughts and it wouldn't flow with the other chapters if I randomly switched to an omniscient POV. So then I switched that part to Draco's POV, and I'm not sure if I prefer it this way. Please do me a favor and let me know if you like that conversation in Draco's POV instead of Hermione's. You'll know which conversation I mean when you get there. Also, sorry for the capslock in advance, but I feel it's necessary so I'm keeping it as is. Anywho, on to the **reviews**!

**janjan2009 - **Heehee. Yes, it is incredibly sneaky, which is why I think it suits the Malfoy family so well. I'm glad you like dominant Hermione. It's fun to write her bossing around Draco, and she'll definitely get more comfortable doing it as time goes on, so you can expect more of that later! As for Draco being sexy, well, that's one of the most self-evident truths of the universe, isn't it?

**l0stinl0ve - **Thank you! It makes my day when I see a positive review, so let's keep this circle of happiness going, shall we?

**BrightestWitchOfHerAge16 - **Thank you! In all honesty, I probably only thought of it because it's my ideal proposal. Other girls dream of their boyfriends dropping to one knee with a ring box. I dream about my boyfriend telling me we're going out to eat and then taking me to a house he built for us with a gigantic library in it. Don't give me a ring, because I'll lose it within twenty-four hours, but I can't lose a library! *dreamy sigh*

**LadyF - **Thank you! I know exactly what you mean. It's gotten to the point where I start skimming the first several paragraphs of a fic and then decide if it's interesting enough to actually go back and seriously read it. I've ruled out a surprising number of fics that way because I can usually tell right then if a fic is going to be too OOC or if the writing style is going to bother me. Sometimes I don't like being so picky, but then there's that moment when I find a really _good_ one I'm decently impressed with and it makes it all worth it. I love that feeling. Anywho, as a fellow reader who has read too many mediocre stories over the years, it means so much more to me that you like mine!

**Divess - **Heehee. I love that line too. As soon as I got to that part, I didn't even have to think about it because it's so typical Draco. He just _had _to say it. That conversation practically spilled out of my brain onto the page quicker than I could type it because being snarky is what Draco does best and he always makes me laugh. I'm glad to see you enjoy his comments, too!

**racethom - **Wow! I would have been just as uncomfortable as it sounds you were! Granted, I might have taken to it a bit better because I enjoy being lazy, but that must have been such a culture shock for you! Who can't even go inside their own kitchen? Seriously? Anywho, I completely agree. It sounds a lot like the way I imagine house elves are with wizarding families. And it is very strange to us because Americans are generally taught to be independent and ambitious (capitalism, free enterprise, etc), so the thought of being so dependent upon someone else to do simple things like fetching a purse seems honestly a little bit crazy. We just want to do it ourselves and get on with our day rather than stand around waiting for someone else to do something we're perfectly capable of doing ourselves. That's how it seems to me, anyway. /endrant.

**DramioneObsessed - **Thank you so much! I wouldn't call my writing flawless, but I'm glad you think it is!

**rhileigh - **Thank you for telling me! That's always so lovely to read! I'm glad you like it so much!

~~~\~~~

Step 12: Adapting to Your New Life

_There is something about owning his own home that makes a Malfoy male more unruly than usual. His inner child seems to run amok more often than not so that he makes incredibly stupid decisions and blames them on something irrelevant that you did. He is not above throwing a horrid temper tantrum at the slightest grievance if he can get away with it, and be prepared for several declarations of insanely trivial rules, such as when you are allowed to get out of bed in the morning or at what precise time dinner shall be served (e.g. twelve past six). He is merely marking his territory and exerting his dominance in the new space as an alphamale. I'm sure you'll find it just as amusing as I that if such a comment is dared whispered aloud, he scoffs and lists all the reasons why his is so much more civilized than a common animal. Yet the similarities are undeniable. My advice to you is, don't be angry, be sarcastic. Malfoys loathe it when their best weapon is used against them, and that anger makes for an amusing argument about whether Malfoys exclusively own the rights to sarcasm. According to them, they invented it._

_He might have you wrapped around his little finger in the bedroom, but don't forget that he wouldn't have chosen you if you couldn't put him in his place from time to time, so don't be afraid to do it whenever you deem his ego too much bigger than usual._

_~~~\~~~_

Hermione was simultaneously surprised and unsurprised that Draco had convinced her to stay shut up in their new home by keeping her busy.

He had insisted on christening every room (and every moderately-sized piece of furniture) in the house, and when they weren't doing that or passing out in exhaustion, they ensconced themselves in the plushy armchairs of the library or sprawled out in the living room, reading by the windows. Whenever they felt like getting some fresh air, they took long walks in the garden and discussed all the potions they could make with ingredients from the plants alone.

The only thing she insisted on was making meals herself, though he argued until she allowed a house elf, Mipsy, to do the 'tedious task' of grocery shopping if she paid her.

That was, until after the fourth meal Hermione had cooked, when Draco nearly scared her to death by fake-vomiting into the nearest toilet. She didn't realize he had faked it until she dragged him onto the living room sofa and wiped his forehead with a wet compress. That was when he moaned pitifully and not-so-subtly accused her of poisoning him just so she could leave the house.

She was so offended, confused, and worried that she started crying. He dropped the act immediately and consoled her, which didn't actually make her feel any better as he admitted to her face that he thought her a terrible cook. While she wasn't entirely surprised, as he had been raised on house elf gourmet cooking, she was still deeply hurt that he had resorted to faking food poisoning instead of discussing it with her.

The ensuing fight was _dreadful_.

She had immediately stood up from her seat on the sofa, making Draco roll off her lap onto the floor.

"Oi! Ow!" he exclaimed, landing awkwardly on his elbow.

But she didn't care. She was _furious_.

"I can't _believe _you!" she screeched. "Instead of _calmly_ explaining that you don't like it all that much, like a _normal_ person, you honestly felt the need to _guilt_ me into letting a house elf cook for you? I was worried that you were _ill_, but all you wanted was better food! Well, _fine_! Have your way!"

She stepped over him, stalked into the kitchen, grabbed her beaded purse off the counter, and headed straight for the front door.

He was up in a flash and whipped out his wand, locking and barricading it before she could reach it.

"And where do you think _you're _going?" he demanded.

She spun around to face him with a glare. "I'm leaving you and your house elf to enjoy your good food together! Clearly, you _aren't _emotionally ready for a serious relationship if your first instinct is to manipulate your girlfriend into conforming to such high standards!"

She took out her wand and started breaking the spells he put on the door.

"Oh no you don't!" he rushed forward and clamped his arms around her, physically hauling her away from the door.

"GET OFF ME, DRACO!" she shrieked.

"NO!" he snapped back. "HOW DARE YOU TRY TO LEAVE ME HERE ALL BY MYSELF!"

"YOU _WON'T _BE BY YOURSELF WITH YOUR PRECIOUS HOUSE ELF!"

She tore herself away from his grip and started to storm back into the kitchen to get away from him. He followed her.

"IF YOU'D CALM THE FUCK DOWN FOR FIVE SECONDS, THEN MAYBE WE COULD TALK THIS OUT!"

She halted, turning on her heel and feeling even more enraged.

"OH, _NOW _YOU WANT TO TALK? BY ALL MEANS, DRACO! LET'S TALK ABOUT HOW YOU CAN'T EVEN BE HONEST ABOUT _FOOD_! WHAT _ELSE _HAVE YOU BEEN LYING TO ME ABOUT?"

"NOTHING! I DON'T LIE ABOUT THINGS FOR NO REASON! I DIDN'T WANT TO HURT YOUR FEELINGS!"

"HURT MY _FEELINGS_? SO DRACO 'SNARKY' MALFOY HAS FINALLY GROWN A CONSCIENCE, HAS HE? AND HOW THE HELL IS ACCUSING ME OF _POISONING _YOU SUPPOSED TO SPARE MY FEELINGS?"

"I DON'T KNOW! I WASN'T THINKING! ALL I KNOW IS THAT YOU LOOKED SO BLOODY CONTENT WHEN YOU MADE IT, THAT I COULDN'T BEAR TO TELL YOU I DIDN'T LIKE IT. BECAUSE IT WAS EASIER TO SAY IT WHEN I WAS ACTING AND HAVE YOU MAD AT ME THAN TO SAY IT THEN AND MAKE YOU SAD. BECAUSE I DIDN'T THINK MY ACTING WOULD MAKE YOU CRY. BECAUSE I BLOODY _LOVE _YOU, HERMIONE, AND THIS STUPID EMOTION IS MAKING ME IRRATIONAL!"

Hermione was shocked into silence and merely stared at him for several long minutes.

"_What_?" she eventually whispered.

Draco was still breathing heavily through his nose, but his face was gradually returning to its normal, pale hue and his fingers relaxed from fisting by his sides.

"You heard. I love you, Hermione, and it's bloody pissing me off how much it hurts me when you're sad. My decisions have become significantly less efficient whenever you're involved because I'm too bloody busy worrying about your reaction. I...I _hate _that I don't have as much control anymore, but...I don't want to give you up, either. I like being with you too much, and you make me feel...well, you make me _feel_."

And just like that, her rage vanished like it had been _evanesco_'d, only convincing her further that they were probably the most bipolar couple on the planet. Even worse, tears sprung to her eyes and she fought valiantly to hold them back because she didn't want him to think he had made her cry again, in a bad way.

She slowly walked over to him, her eyes never leaving his. He watched her silently, but no less intensely, waiting for her to comment on his outburst.

Her hands automatically reached up to smooth against his chest and she smiled, finally letting the tears fall.

"I love you, too, Draco," she returned, barely above a whisper. Her throat was so choked up with emotion, she couldn't speak any louder.

The corners of his lips quirked up into a smile. Not a smirk, a real _smile_, however small.

"Of course you do," he boasted. "I was the Wizarding World's Most Eligible Bachelor until you snatched me up."

She chuckled, leaning her head against his chest above her hands. He wrapped his arms around her gently, but firmly holding her in place, and she hummed happily. This man was most definitely going to induce wild mood swings for the rest of her life, but at the moment, she didn't think she'd have him any other way.

"They say that make up sex is some of the best sex there is."

She rolled her eyes. Honestly! Sometimes she wondered if he was an undiagnosed sex addict because he got it pretty much whenever he wanted it.

"I wouldn't know. I don't have enough empirical data to make a hypothesis on that topic."

"Well, if you care to begin such an experiment, I believe we have yet to pay our respects to the futon in the library."

"Perhaps," she teased. "But how do you propose we 'pay our respects' to the armoire in the bedroom?"

She looked up just in time to see his wicked grin before he covered her lips with his.

"I have a few ideas," he mumbled against her mouth before kissing her thoroughly, slowly leading her through the kitchen hallway, then up the stairs.

She vaguely wondered if it was unhealthy, how many times they had shagged in two days, but then she remembered the previous March and registered his hand slipping down her trousers to squeeze her bum while his tongue kept her own occupied. She decided the answer wasn't that important, instead focusing on divesting him as quickly as possible in order to decide for herself if the claim about make up sex had any merit.

After all, challenging Draco Malfoy's beliefs _was _her specialty.

~~~\~~~

To Hermione's horror, two more days passed before she remembered how she had gotten there in the first place.

"Ginny!" she burst out suddenly, after skimming past a book on the history of the Holyhead Harpies in the library. The horror of being such an abysmal friend, leaving her friends in Diagon Alley and never saying a word when she had decided to stay, froze her for several moments before she started panicking.

Harry would have gone berserk the second he thought her missing, and Ginny would be so _angry_ with her for not writing a bleeding note, assuming she hadn't been kidnapped! And of course they couldn't owl _her _to ask where she was because she was in an environment specifically charmed to keep all her friends out!

"Draco!" she called, hurrying over to his dark green chair. "Draco! I need an owl, _now_!"

He looked up and frowned at her frantic tone. "Why?"

"I forgot about Ginny and Harry!" she explained with anguish. "I was with them in Diagon Alley when I ran into Zabini, and then I followed him here and completely _forgot_-"

She cut herself off when her boyfriend rolled his eyes and smirked.

"How can you be so _callous_!" she shrieked.

"Hermione, they already know where you are," he informed her amusedly.

She blinked. "They do? How?"

"Merlin, you are dense sometimes, aren't you?"

She pursed her lips, ready to retort, but he continued before she could speak.

"Weaselette dragged you to Diagon Alley so you'd 'accidentally' run into Blaise, who would 'accidentally' lead you here. It was her idea, actually. Didn't think she could think like a Slytherin, but she managed surprisingly well."

"You three...planned it? All of it?"

He nodded with a triumphant smirk, clearly pleased that their plan had been a success.

She stared at him, trying to figure out if she felt more deceived or impressed that he had successfully worked with a Weasley.

And now that she thought back on it, Ginny _had _been acting suspiciously that day. She had seemed much more cheery and dismissive than usual, and Harry had seemed rather confused as to why he was being dragged off so forcefully.

But that was classic Ginny, scheming for the benefit of her friends and family, even if it was rather underhanded.

"Oh."

Normally, she would start ranting about how immature it was to manipulate her to get what they wanted, but that seemed a bit too much like pot and kettle. She'd been rather immature herself, using every excuse to avoid telling him she wanted to give their relationship a serious go; and if they hadn't tricked her, then how long would Draco have waited to tell her he loved her?

Draco raised a pale eyebrow. "What, no lecture on how you can take care of yourself and how despicably rude it is to manipulate others?" he teased.

She shrugged. "I might have been rather cowardly myself, recently," she admitted, biting her bottom lip.

"The Gryffindor lioness, cowardly? Perish the thought!" he mocked.

She glared but couldn't muster up any actual heat to burn him with her eyes, so he continued smirking at her. Hermione blushed under his smug gaze, and was immensely thankful when a sudden voice distracted him.

"Draco! Darling, where are you?" a polished, feminine voice called from downstairs.

Draco sighed. "Not even a bloody day has passed since I hooked it up to the network and she's _already _butting in," he growled. "One moment, Mother!" he called loudly.

Hermione curiously followed him downstairs, but stayed behind the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. She fully intended to stay out of sight of the fireplace he had just put in because she still didn't have a clue how his mother felt about her. Therefore, she decided not to intrude, but couldn't resist eavesdropping to catch any comments about herself.

***/***

"Ah, there you are. Darling, it is very disconcerting seeing you float in midair while talking to you," she admonished primly.

Draco almost reflexively sighed and rolled his eyes, but he caught himself. His mother hated it when he was disrespectful. He told her the address and her eyes darted around the room, taking in the living room décor. He backed up, giving her space, and a minute later, she gracefully stepped out of the fireplace, waving her wand to clean off any soot residue.

He went through the motions of setting up the coffee table like a play he knew by heart. He Summoned the tea paraphernalia and set it up almost mindlessly, watching his mother seat herself and glance around the room again, eyeing the details. He sensed the impending criticism the moment her eyes remained on one spot for longer than two seconds.

"_That _is the carpet you chose? Darling, if you would just owl my personal designer-"

He scowled, pushing a tea cup, already prepared the way she liked it, toward her. "Mother, what is the purpose of your visit?"

She frowned. "Must a mother have an ulterior motive to visit her only son?"

"Of course you do. You always do," he pointed out stiffly.

She sniffed, offended, taking a few moments to sip the tea and set it down again. "I am wounded that you think so lowly of me, Draco. The bond a mother has with her child or grandchild is simply unbreakable."

Draco groaned, ignoring his own tea. "Not this again."

"I just want to meet her! Is that so terrible? I can't even imagine why you are so ashamed of me that you would inform _The_ _Daily Prophet_ before your very own _mother_ that you were interested in a single witch."

"I'm not ashamed!" he denied heatedly. "I'm cautious. Besides, the _Prophet _stunt was a means to an end, not a slight to you, so stop taking it as such."

"Don't you lie to me, Draco. You _are _ashamed. You don't want me to meet her and all I want to know is _why_. I had to find out from _Morwena_, who was seeing you more than I was. But she refuses to tell me who the girl is out of sheer spite, and now my own son is _ashamed_ of me...the only family I truly have left..." His mother started tearing up, so she pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes.

"Oh, Draco, when did you start _hating _me so?"

Draco's usual stoic mask was slipping further by the second, instead showing tenderness he rarely exhibited. To date, only two witches had ever drawn it out of him: his mother and Hermione.

"Mother, of _course_ I don't hate you. You're being perfectly silly."

"Then why won't you tell me _anything_ about your life? I didn't even know you were _thinking _about building a library! How could you not _tell_ me? A _library_!" Her voice cracked, making him frown.

"I'm _not_ ashamed, Mother, I swear it. And I most certainly don't hate you. I just...I'm afraid you won't like her, and you both mean the world to me. I don't want to have to choose."

Her clear blue eyes widened and softened into the beautiful sincerity she only had with him. "Draco, Darling, I would never do that to you."

"You did it to your sister," he whispered, suddenly afraid she was going to hate him for pointing out her own mistakes. But at the same time, he wouldn't let her guilt him with a declaration of family loyalty.

His mother stared as if she had been slapped.

"And don't deny it," he said with more strength. "Aunt Andromeda was burned from the tapestries and everything, exiled, because she dared fall in love with a muggle-born. And you didn't do a bleeding thing to stop it. You and Father and Aunt Bella pretended she hadn't even _existed_ all those years, and the only reason I know about her is because Father made me read all those self-updating family ancestry books. I'm not the only family you have left. There's still Aunt Andromeda and her grandson. You have a _grand_-_nephew _and here you are badgering me about providing you a grandson because you feel so alone. Aren't you sick of pretending to hate her because everyone else wanted you to?"

This was something he had desperately burned to ask her since he had found out, but it had never seemed the right time to make her so upset. Her expression changed just slightly, to one where she had been slapped by a stranger, as opposed to her son. He didn't know which expression made him feel worse.

"Draco..."

For the first time ever, she seemed completely at a loss for words. She had no defense and she knew it.

"I'm sick of it, Mother. I'm sick of being controlled and manipulated and threatened, by _anyone_. You want to know why I didn't tell you? This is why. Because you think you know what's best even though our entire family has fallen from grace because of Father's stupid decisions."

"Draco!" she finally reprimanded.

"No. I'll speak however I wish, Mother. I know you don't like to hear it, but it's true. Father grossly miscalculated, and what angers me even more is that he didn't even choose a leader who _appreciated _his own followers! The Dark Lord made no distinction between Death Eaters and muggle-borns; we were all tortured just as cruelly. In fact, he was more honest with the _muggles_ than he was with us! At least he told the muggles flat out that he hated them and they deserved to be tortured and killed. He lied to _us _over and over, spouting off about a world ruled by purebloods. Well, if anyone had _bothered _to pay attention, he didn't give a shite about purebloods, he just wanted to rule the world himself and kill everyone in it! I can't even fathom what Father was thinking, taking sides with someone who'd sooner _Crucio _you than thank you. I mean, he never even rewarded us properly! His _reward _for us completing missions was a creepy smile and _not _killing or torturing us! What sort of reward system is_ that_? We're all fucking _idiots_ for allowing it!"

It was a sign of how shocking his outburst was that she made no remark about his language.

"Your father had his reasons," she replied stiffly, her cold demeanor slipping back into place.

"He was blinded by promises of power, you mean," Draco sniped.

"Draco Lucius, your father was a _good _man!"

"Was he? When did he ever show _me _that? At what point was I supposed to see that? When he told me emotions were weaknesses to be exploited by the strong and clever? When he yelled at me for hours about a muggle-born getting higher marks than me, and Potter catching the Snitch every bloody time? When he _Crucio_'d me himself, to prepare me for when The Dark Lord would do it countless times? When he urged me to identify three of my classmates so one of them could be killed and the other two tortured right in front of me? Yes, I can _clearly _see his fatherly love and devotion throughout the years," he sneered.

That seemed to finally break her, tears streaming down her flawlessly pale cheeks.

"Oh, my Darling, you don't understand! You don't understand the choices he had to make. There was no other option to survive _except_ to go along with it!"

"There's _always _another option, Mother," he retorted coldly. "We could have fought him with gold and influence. What bloody good is all that if we allow ourselves to become slaves? How are we different from 'muggle filth' if we let ourselves be oppressed down to their level? They're all just excuses. I don't care how many excuses you make for him, I'll never forgive him for everything he's done. As far as I'm concerned, I never had a father, only a taskmaster who happened to help create me."

Seeing his mother so distraught nearly killed him underneath his anger, but the anger was strong enough to hide it. He meant every word with an anguished fury he didn't know how to express, so he stayed cold, just as Lucius had taught him. The man didn't even deserve to be called a father.

After a minute, his mother was able to pull herself together.

"You'll understand one day, Draco, I'm sure of it. Once you have a child of your own, you'll understand how scared we were and how necessary we thought those decisions. Because of those decisions, you and I are alive. He sacrificed himself for us because he loved us, both of us, and I'm so sorry he never showed you. He only did those things to prepare you because otherwise you would have perished, either by The Dark Lord's hand or your own."

Fuck, that was a depressing thought, but he could at least sort of see the logic in that. To give someone a thick skin at home so when the world threw shite at them, it wouldn't suck as much as if they had gone out all doe-eyed and optimistic. But that still didn't excuse Lucius' actions. Or maybe his mother was right. Maybe only parents were dumb enough to make those sorts of choices because love made them irrational.

Now that was a thought he could relate to, irrational love. He loved his mother, and he was willing to do anything for her, as he had done during the war, but family loyalty didn't strike him as irrational at all. No, it was his love for Hermione that allowed him a hint of understanding.

For just a moment, he imagined himself back in the drawing room, Lucius at his ear, whispering to identify Potter and Hermione. If he had loved her then as he loved her now, he knew instantly it would have been different. Just the thought of identifying her and knowing the outcome would have made him obstinately deny their identities. He would have found a way to convince his family it wasn't them, hopefully before Aunt Bella spotted the sword. And even if he had been caught in his lie, he very well might have taken his own life instead of watching Hermione be tortured by his own aunt. In a way, it had been good that he hadn't loved her then. He might not have survived the emotional trauma, or he might have done something Gryffindor-stupid like hex his aunt to save her. Yes, love definitely made people irrational.

After his mother wiped away her tears and dabbed her face, she reverted back to her usual self.

"Now," she started primly, as if they hadn't just nearly had a falling-out, "when shall I have your girlfriend over for tea?"

Draco stared, completely unprepared for the new attack. "Mother! You can't _possibly _have her at the Manor!" He immediately regretted his response, as it was bound to make her suspicious.

"Well, why not? The elves have done a splendid job of redecorating, under my direction, of course, so we can all forget about past unpleasantness."

Draco pressed his lips together, aggravated. He would _not _force Hermione to enter that house ever again. But he restrained his anger, knowing that his mother was only suggesting it because she hadn't an inkling who his girlfriend actually was.

"No, Mother. It cannot be at the Manor. Pick somewhere else. _Anywhere _else."

His mother frowned as she tried to piece together the clues he was accidentally giving her.

"Draco, Darling, please tell me it isn't," she sighed eventually.

"What?" he asked, cautiously offended.

"It's her, isn't it? There is only one muggle-born I can think of who wouldn't step inside our house for anything, and out of all the muggle-borns in England, you had to pick _her_?"

Draco bristled.

"Really, Darling, haven't you forever been complaining about her lack of elegance and beauty?" she asked disapprovingly.

"See? _This _is why I didn't want to tell you!" he hissed. "I _knew _you wouldn't approve. You're judging her based on her blood-"

"No, I am judging her based off of your constant descriptions of her since you were eleven," she interrupted. "It sounds as if the only talent she does have is her intelligence, but that does not make her fit to be a Malfoy. Malfoy wives are beautiful and cunning, too. I'm sorry, Darling, but she just won't survive our way of life."

Her matter-of-fact tone made the rejection sound worse, as if she were reasonably trying to explain that a bird and a fish couldn't possibly cohabitate.

"Well my descriptions were wrong. I was a bloody kid, I didn't know what I was talking about," he insisted.

"Language, Darling," she chided, before pausing. "I don't quite think you've ever admitted to being wrong before," she pointed out amusedly.

Draco felt the heat rush to his face, but he kept up his same façade, even if his cheeks were turning slightly pink. "Yes, well, you ought to see her for yourself before you judge her unfit."

His mother heaved a great, self-suffering sigh, which meant she was caving. "Oh, alright, Darling. I'll give her a chance to impress me, just for you. I'll search for somewhere suitable and owl you with the details."

"Thank you, Mother," he said sincerely.

She smiled and the warmth of it made her look ten times more beautiful than when she was pretending to be cold. "You're welcome. I'm afraid I must go now, for I have a family to gain back. I love you, my Darling."

Draco sighed in relief. She wasn't angry with him about Aunt Andromeda, and was even going to try mending the rift. It was either a sign of her guilt or her loneliness that she would swallow her pride and beg for forgiveness, but it made him so very proud of her.

"I love you, too, Mother. Good luck."

With one last loving look and a handful of Floo powder, she left. Draco leaned his head back, body sagging. Normally his mother was a logical, concise person, but when they got into emotional arguments, he always felt drained afterward, as if he had just performed some nearly impossible spell that required all of his magic. He felt exhausted, and therefore in desperate need of a nap.

He slowly stood up and started walking toward the hallway, when Hermione popped her head out from behind the wall. He halted at the sad look in her eyes and mentally swore. He had completely forgotten she had followed him downstairs.

"Hermione-" he started, not sure how to explain that his mother meant well.

"It's okay, Draco. I understand," she said softly, smiling a little to reassure him. "I've met your Aunt Walburga Black, remember? If your grandparents were anything like her, then I expect your mother has a lot of values to re-evaluate. It'll take some time, but I'm glad she's going to get back in touch with Andromeda. The poor woman's been so lonely without her husband or daughter. Having Teddy helps, but it's just not the same, I'm sure..." she trailed off.

Draco felt too tired to express everything in words, so he settled for pulling his girlfriend into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of her bushy hair. She hugged him back just as tightly and even though he was still tired, he felt content. He was definitely going to marry this witch one day. He just had to convince his mother to open up to her, so she could see for herself how clever, beautiful, and witty Hermione was. Lucius was probably turning over in his grave right about now, but Draco thought that his girlfriend would be a perfect Malfoy wife.

~~~\~~~

**A/N2: ** I decided to hold off on last chapter's ad libs because it took me so long to get this out to you, and when I tried, I couldn't think of a way to add them in naturally. I'm sure I'll find a place for them next chapter, though, so there's no homework this time. But again, please do review or PM me with your thoughts of Draco's POV this chapter. I'm particularly interested in whether you liked having his insight versus Hermione's. Thank you lovies! Until next time...


	15. Step 13: Setting the Stage

**A/N: **I cannot find the words to say how sorry I am for leaving you hanging so long. Real life got in the way unexpectedly for a long time, but the good news is that all the drama is over now, so I finally have time to write again! Yay! As part of my apology, I have a whopping 21 pages for you to peruse at your leisure. In other news, an irritated reviewer has kindly asked me to refrain from responding to reviews in the chapter itself. I see no harm in acquiescing, so I will be responding to reviews via PMs from now on. If I come across a Guest I really want to respond to...well, I don't know. I'll decide when it happens. To those of you who mentioned Narcissa's contradicting behaviour, you are not imagining things. That was entirely intentional, and is finally explained at the end of the chappie!

Now that's settled, on with the show!

~~~\~~~

Step 13: Setting the Stage

_Now that you're inextricably linked to the Malfoy family for all eternity, as the vain gits would never allow themselves to die out or be forgotten (no matter how much the rest of society wishes the meddling buggers would), marriage is the next logical step. What nobody else will tell you is that this next logical step will take approximately five years to occur. _

_But, you say, Malfoys are notorious for incredibly short engagements! Why yes, it certainly seems that way, doesn't it? Except the entire family has been deceiving the rest of us for centuries because of those bloody libraries. The library is the true engagement ring. The band of silver with a big enough diamond to drown you in a lake is merely a courtesy for the rest of society just before the wedding. Because, to the Malfoys, a 500,000 galleon ring bought on a whim just as they are about to announce the engagement publicly is just as necessary as listening to your nosey mother-in-law lecture how inappropriate it is to wear certain colors during certain seasons. It is irritating, but must be suffered. In all honesty, they would rather skip the ring altogether and build erotic statues of themselves and their bride-to-be as a testament to their pride and insatiable desire to make other people as uncomfortable as possible in their presence, physical or metaphorical. _

_But I digress. Now that you've captured the heart of the son, you must now win over his parents. And by 'win over his parents', I mean you must show them that you are beautiful, cunning, and witty via lots of double entendres and veiled insults, whilst calmly sipping tea, pinky finger out, as a proper Malfoy wife does._

~~~\~~~

The next day, after a temporary mouth-freshening charm and a round of lazy morning sex in bed, Hermione was basking in the afterglow and did not particularly feel up to opening the window. But the owl incessantly pecked on the glass and Draco was in the shower, so her annoyance finally won out. She reluctantly dragged herself out of the most comfortable cocoon ever and stumbled her way to the window.

A tawny owl she didn't recognize perched long enough for her to remove the message from its leg and then soared off, clearly not needing an answer. Hermione closed the window automatically because Draco hated leaving them open (he claimed the draft was uncomfortable and cooling charms rendered it completely unnecessary), her full attention on the letter that bore her name in a uniform, printed font.

She turned the envelope over and held her breath as she noticed the wax seal of a wand and bone crossed, the insignia of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

She slowly peeled open the parchment envelope and slid out the letter inside, carefully setting the former down on the sill. The latter she unfolded with shaky hands. What if her recipe was useless? What if it was a one-time anomaly? What if she had been too late and someone else had already created it before her? All that time and energy, wasted...

_Dear Miss Hermione Granger,_

_We at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries are pleased to inform you_

Hermione let out her breath, feeling excitement and pride fill the place her anxiety had just vacated. It had worked! It had passed the preliminary tests!

She quickly read the rest of the surprisingly short letter, which stated that they would shortly begin testing on living subjects since her potion had passed the theoretical safety tests with flying colors. It also mentioned she could obtain a copy of all the tests performed and the results by dropping in personally, which she planned to do the next time she was out.

The sound of running water stopped, and a minute later the bathroom door opened.

"Who's that from?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Hermione whipped around, unable to control a large grin. "St. Mungo's. My potion passed!"

His expression instantly relaxed into a confident smirk.

"Of course it did. You're Hermione bloody Granger. You can't do anything wrong to save your life."

She felt her mood dampen just a tad at his unenthusiastic response, despite the compliment, but her grin didn't budge. She felt exceedingly accomplished.

A lone water droplet fell from a lock of his hair and ran down his nose, past his lips and chin, across the planes of his chest and was finally absorbed into the knotted towel at his waist. Her eyes lingered on his naked skin like they always wanted to, and she couldn't help but feel like she shouldn't, if only because he loved teasing her about his irresistibility.

"You're staring again," he said amusedly.

Her eyes snapped back up to his face. "If you don't like it, then I suggest you cover yourself up."

He sauntered over, smirking wider. "I never said I didn't like it." He plucked the letter from her hands and set it down with the envelope, his eyes never leaving hers. "As it happens, I enjoy watching my witch ogle me."

"Your ego enjoys it, you mean," she corrected, smiling for a much different reason now.

"I am my ego," he countered, wrapping his arms around her bare waist and pulling her up against him.

"Only partially. There's also your id and superego..."

Draco interrupted her lecture with a kiss of salacious intent.

His touch only just reminded her that she was still entirely naked from earlier, but she didn't feel embarrassed or shy at all. How could she be, when Draco seemed ready to throw her back onto the bed and render his shower a complete waste of time and water? Her body warmed as her imagination provided recent memories to present a very plausible prediction of what she could be doing five minutes from now. Her own id, ego, and superego were in unanimous agreement.

She took a moment to feel how perfect this was, her mind, body, and soul in harmony, all desiring the same person. She finally had him. Any obstacles were forgotten as she kissed him back passionately, pouring her elation and want into him, filling him up because she didn't think she could handle feeling any more emotion. Her hands ripped the towel off of his hips, dropping it thoughtlessly to the floor, then urged him backward until he was lying on the bed with her atop him.

She hesitated at first, not knowing how to do what she wanted to do, before a memory appeared in her mind.

They were back in Morgana Manor, when she and Draco had slept in the same bed because she had been under the influence of the amplification potion. She had pounced on top of him and rubbed herself against him, sensually and determinedly, making him groan with want.

She channeled that confidence, remembering the feeling of complete abandonment, the desire to dominate, the concentrated lust that had flowed through her. The difference this time was, she didn't want to tease, but treasure. She wanted to show him how much she loved him and she wanted him to _feel _it.

So she moved slowly, sliding her body against his and he groaned in the exact same way as she remembered. His arms constricted her tightly, ensuring there was zero space between them. He tried to increase the pace of their kissing, but she didn't let him, eliciting a frustrated grunt from him. She paid him no mind, splitting her attention only between keeping the pace and feeling him.

The tightness of his embrace prevented her from her next goal, so she slid down his body a bit, forcing his arms to widen so she could fit. He complied reluctantly and frowned when she used the opening to sit up completely.

She smiled reassuringly and ground against his burgeoning erection, immediately silencing any imminent protests. When she knew they were ready, she lifted her body and glided a hand along his shaft. His hands squeezed her thighs appreciatively, making her smile, pleased that he was enjoying this so far. She slowly slid down on him until he was fully sheathed. His grip on her tightened, but his moan assured her he wasn't complaining in the least.

His eyelids fluttered open and his gaze stole her breath. It was the most intense look she'd ever seen, but only because the emotion behind it was new. It wasn't the sort of intensity as when he was pounding her into the mattress or the floor. He was attentive. He was completely present in the moment, waiting for her to show him how to love her and be loved.

How to make love.

So she moved, slowly and deliberately, using pace, intensity, and eye contact to speak instead of words. He followed her lead, always watching her underneath heavy lids, but clearly awed by the power of it. Their tacit communication allowed them to plan, to release simultaneously, and Hermione swore she had a momentary out-of-body experience in the best way possible.

She collapsed on top of him and he embraced her, catching her as she fell.

They remained like that for several minutes before he rolled them over and started slowly thrusting again, showing her what he had learned. They made love again and again, pausing only when absolutely necessary to nap or use the bathroom.

They hardly left the bed all day, let alone the room, as Draco had Mipsy bring them food while Hermione was using the bathroom to maintain _some _level of hygiene.

Several times already she had attempted to lecture him on unnecessary uses for house elves when they were perfectly capable of walking downstairs to the kitchen, but he interrupted her every time.

"I love you, Hermione," he'd say before kissing her and leading into another round.

She knew what he was doing. He was shocking her into silence on purpose, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry about it because he _showed _her how much he loved her, so she allowed him to draw her back into bliss each and every time.

~~~\~~~

"Just one more day, Hermione, that's all," Draco wheedled persuasively from the bed.

She allowed her eyes to linger on his bare chest through the vanity mirror before rolling them.

"That's what you've said for the past two days. Enough is enough, Draco," she admonished, fighting a particularly difficult snarl with her hairbrush.

"You'll never get enough of me," he boasted confidently. "Now come back to bed so I can remind you why."

"No. I've already stayed in that bed far too long. I haven't been productive at _all _for the last week. I need to do _something_."

She watched his naked reflection slide out of bed, stalk over to her, and bend down to brush his lips tantalizingly along her ear. His gaze caught hers in the mirror and she licked her lips, amazed that her insides still tensed and quivered whenever he stood so close. She still hadn't decided if she loved or hated that he consistently slept in the nude these days. He claimed it was selflessly for her benefit, but she had her doubts. On the one hand, it was rather lovely waking up to something so beautiful. On the other hand, it was torture when she had to fight off temptation that stared her in the face so often.

"I can think of _many _productive things to do that don't require leaving the house," he smirked seductively.

She rolled her eyes again. "You truly are insatiable. I honestly think you need professional help."

"Why bother when you enjoy it so thoroughly?" he countered.

She narrowed her eyes just a bit. "Because your idea of fun is finding new ways to break the furniture with strenuous activity."

He grinned. "You can't tell me it isn't. Besides, we just repair it afterwards."

"I'm still not convinced it's just as sturdy after repairing the same sage chaise lounge five times."

"Our favorite sex sofa has to have character, doesn't it? It wants to be special."

She sighed. "It's inanimate, Draco. It doesn't feel anything!"

"You tell me all the time that house elves have feelings."

She turned around to glare at him. "Of course they have feelings!"

"So why can't our sex sofa?"

She opened her mouth to call him an idiot when his amused smirk tipped her off.

"No, I'm not doing this again. You are not going to draw me into another pointless argument just to make me forget what I was doing. I'm going back home today and you can't stop me."

"Really, Granger, you should know better than to present such a delicious challenge," he chastised.

"I have no idea what you mean," she obstinately denied, even though she sort of did agree with him. Challenging Draco on anything was like holding a frantic rat in front of a hungry python. But such was the fatal flaw of vain men.

"You know exactly what I mean," he scoffed, "and that is precisely why you're making these threats. You like playing hard to get."

She shot up from her chair, twisted around, and crossed her arms across her chest. "I do not!"

Draco laughed. "Yes, you do."

"Do not!" she exclaimed louder, dropping her brush on the table and stepping around the chair to meet him face to face.

"Do."

"Do not!"

"Do."

"Do not!"

"Then why haven't you left yet?" Draco challenged knowingly.

Hermione blinked, her anger morphing into confusion.

"You've been ready for about ten minutes, choosing to spend an inordinate amount of time attempting to tame your hair, which you already know will not cooperate. You've been stalling so that I could stop you from leaving."

The brunette scoffed. "I have not! But it doesn't matter because I'm leaving right now!"

Just as she strode close enough to grab the door handle, Draco caught up with her. He flattened his front against her back, one hand on her waist to hold her in place and the other pressed against the door to prevent it from opening.

"See, Granger? You're stalling," he taunted silkily.

With a loud growl, she flipped around and backed up to get out of his grip, but he merely followed until her back was pushed up against the door. She opened her mouth to shout at him, but his lips cut her off and his tongue skillfully distracted her until they ran out of oxygen.

She came up for air a little dazed, trying to remember what they had been arguing about. His kiss was clearly the only reason she could tolerate him for extended periods of time. Nobody else made her actually _forget _things like he did. Even he couldn't deny that the only way _anyone _could stand him for so long was if they frequently forgot how much of a git he was.

She lost her train of thought again as Draco's mouth played with her neck and his hands stroked her body, which was already heating up in preparation. Judging by the urgency in his movements, this was heading straight for the bed, and she hadn't a single complaint.

Until her head fell back against the door too hard, giving her lover better access to her neck, but the jolt of pain ended up reminding her that she had been trying to get out of said door before the sneaky prat had distracted her.

She was currently in no position to open the door that their combined body weight was keeping closed, so she waited until her lover's urges inevitably got the better of him. When he finally let up, pulling her with him, she took the lead, pushing him toward the bed and then actually shoving him onto it.

He smirked up at her invitingly, and she hesitated for just a moment, considering letting herself finish what he started, but then realized that he'd just do it all over again and keep her occupied all day if she let him. She had to escape while she still had the functional mental facilities to do so.

"See you later! Love you!" She suddenly dashed to the bedroom door and slammed it shut behind her.

~~~\~~~

Hermione let herself into 12 Grimmauld Place, softly closed the door, and slumped against the back of it. She felt terribly guilty about leaving her boyfriend so hot and bothered like that, and not even her rationalizations helped stem the tide. So she took a few moments to collect herself, surprised that she had been able to muffle her own libido's protests long enough to apparate safely.

She had done the right thing. Draco's jealous and possessive nature would keep her locked up forever if she didn't set some ground rules and enforce them. It was tough love. It had to be done. He had to learn that he couldn't keep her all to himself.

Far away laughter startled her out of her musings, allowing her to focus on the present. She was going to visit with Harry and Ginny and have a great time. Draco would just have to deal with it.

She strode down the hall and pushed open the kitchen door, stopping confusedly when she spotted two heads of red hair instead of just one.

Ginny and Harry, who were facing the door, grinned even wider than they had been.

"What're you looking at?" the third person said to them before turning around.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed happily.

"Hermione!" He grinned back and stood up, grabbing her around the waist and swinging her around in a circle. He pecked her on the cheek, which startled her even more. When had he become so familiar with females? He had never even kissed his sister on the cheek before!

"Ron, look at you!" Her eyes zoomed all over his figure, which had visibly toned up so that he looked much more normal than lanky. "You look great!"

He blushed predictably, but moved past it by puffing out his chest in a spot-on impression of his boastful brother Percy. "I know," he replied cheekily.

They all laughed.

She sat down in an empty chair while Ron caught her up to speed with everything he had told his sister and her fiancé. Unfortunately, Ron's team, the Chudley Cannons, had been defeated in the play-off match, so they wouldn't be able to represent England for the Quidditch World Cup. Fortunately, she had only missed a lot of Quidditch jargon, so she was able to interrogate him about other things, like the places he had been able to visit.

"Blimey, Hermione! Is that all you care about? How many boring museums I could have popped into?" he asked in exasperation.

She huffed. "Museums aren't boring! They're quite fascinating I'll have you know-"

"Yeah, yeah. We know," he sighed, rolling his eyes. But then he grinned goofily at her again, and her anger melted away.

"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny burst out. "I've been meaning to ask you, can I borrow your _Hogwarts, A History_?"

Hermione frowned at the odd request, but nodded.

"Great! You boys keep talking. Hermione and I will just pop upstairs for a mo."

Ginny latched onto her arm and yanked her out of her seat, signaling the brunette to hurry the hell up and get out of the kitchen.

"Gin!" Hermione whispered. "What's wrong?"

Ginny led the way to the room the two girls had shared during the war, when Grimmauld had been home to almost the entire Order of the Phoenix. Only then did the redhead smirk at her best friend.

"So, everything worked out, then?"

Hermione blushed profusely. "I still don't know whether I'm mad at the lot of you or not."

Ginny chuckled. "Don't be. I never thought I'd see the day Draco Malfoy was concerned about your favorite color or what percentage of the library should be devoted to each subject."

Hermione blinked. "What? When did he ask you about that?"

"Do you remember that ball I went to that you decided to skip to go visit your parents?"

The brunette nodded.

"I met Blaise Zabini there and he recruited me. Malfoy had a bazillion questions about your preferences in a home that none of his friends could answer, so they persuaded me to help. By the way, I already told Harry, I hope you don't mind, because I knew that once Ron came back we'd need all the support we can get before the idiot blows his top off."

Hermione honestly didn't know if she minded. It was wrong that Harry had had to hear about her relationship with Draco second-hand, but Ginny was right. They needed Harry to calm Ron down when they inevitably told him.

"And?" she settled on asking, tentatively.

Ginny shrugged. "He wasn't as enthusiastic as I had been, of course. But since I'd spent a fair amount of time with the ferret by that point, I was able to vouch that no love potions were involved. He nearly had a heart attack when he heard what had happened at Hogwarts and everything since February-"

"GINNY!" Hermione choked in disbelief.

"_Relax_, Hermione. He just needed proof that Malfoy wasn't playing some sick joke on you, so I told him how long you two have really been going on, which unsettled him, sure, but he saw reason in the end. He's accepted it, really. He doesn't like it much, obviously, but he's not going to rip the git's head off if he happens to meet him on the street."

"Ginny," Hermione repeated weakly. Oh God. Now Harry knew about Graduation Eve, too. She hadn't wanted to tell _anyone _and now Harry knew, and that just sealed it that Ron himself was going to find out eventually. He was going to _hate _her!

Ginny rubbed her friend's back. "Don't worry, Hermione. I promise it'll be okay. Harry's fine with it and we don't have to tell Ron-"

The brunette shot her a look.

"Oh alright, yes, Harry will probably let it slip eventually, but he has enough self-control to wait until the big news has been dealt with. It'll all work itself out, you'll see."

Hermione sighed miserably. "I hope so, Gin."

"Now it's your turn. Tell me _everything_!" Ginny grinned mischievously.

Hermione groaned, hiding her blush behind her hands.

"After everything I've done for you Hermione Jean Granger, you'd think you'd be a _little _more appreciative!"

"_Ginny_," the brunette whined uncharacteristically.

"Oh no you don't, missy! You aren't getting out of this! I've been the best friend that you could ever ask for, who only cares about your happiness. Why don't you care about mine?" the redhead pouted.

"Fine, but I'm skipping all the sexual parts."

"Ooh, a lot of them, are there?" Ginny gushed.

Hermione sighed, but couldn't help smiling a little. It felt good to be a little girly sometimes.

~~~\~~~

When Ginny finally released Hermione from her interrogation, the two traveled back down to the kitchen, unsurprised to find the boys talking of Quidditch...or something like it.

"So then the idiot tries to tug it out, but the bush just tangled it up more, until Moriarty walks over, picks up a twig, pokes the branch, and the broom just falls out. Then he goes, 'Tha's a broomstick-eatin' bush, McKinnon. Yeh got ta know 'ow ta poke 'er!'

The females shared an unimpressed look while the males laughed uproariously. Honestly, men could be so juvenile.

Ginny loudly cleared her throat and the boys calmed down.

"Done?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded, sitting back down next to her fiancé, which Hermione took as a cue to sit back down herself.

"So, Ron, what do you think you're going to do now? Practice for next season doesn't start for a bit, right?" she inquired.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I reckon I'm going to just relax. That's the best part of playing Quidditch. No homework!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a tap at the kitchen window caught their attention.

"Got it," said Harry, as he went over and opened the window.

A white owl with black and pale brown-streaked feathers flew in and landed cleanly on the table, directly in front of Hermione. It stuck out its leg haughtily, as if performing a royal service to the Queen. The brunette stared for a moment, not only because she recognized the endangered species, but because of its off-putting demeanor. It turned its head and gave her a condescending look when she failed to take the letter right away, so she hurried to remove its burden. As soon as the parchment was in her hands, it flew up and away, back out of the window.

Harry closed it after the owl and took his seat with a melancholy expression. It took a moment for Hermione to realize he was reminded of Hedwig, his beloved snowy owl who had been killed during the war.

"What is it?" Ron asked curiously.

"What does it look like, Ron?" Ginny asked snarkily, rubbing Harry's back comfortingly. "It's a letter."

"Oh! That reminds me! I received another letter earlier today!" She waited until all three of them were looking at her interestedly, especially Harry. "My potion is safe enough to test further, so they're going to experiment with live subjects!"

Her friends congratulated her with gusto, and she could tell they were truly happy for her. Even though she didn't like to openly toot her own horn, so to speak, it was much more gratifying to see such exuberance instead of Draco's mere lack of surprise.

"So what's this one say, then?" Ron persisted.

She frowned. "I don't know." She turned the letter over and her heart skipped a beat in apprehension. Her name written in elegant cursive on the front, combined with the instantly recognizable Malfoy seal on the back, could only mean one person: Narcissa Malfoy, her boyfriend's elitist and high maintenance mother.

Oh dear God. She had forgotten that Narcissa wanted to meet her.

"Hermione?" Harry asked concernedly.

"Why are you so pale?" Ron asked unhelpfully.

Ginny smacked her brother's arm. "Ron!"

"Well she is!" Ron protested.

Hermione swallowed. How could she answer without having to explain to Ron why Draco Malfoy's mother was writing her?

She procrastinated solving that dilemma by opening the envelope to get at the letter.

_Miss Hermione Granger,_

_I cordially invite you to attend a private luncheon in order to be formally introduced, per the request of my son, Draco.  
><em>_The included portkey will activate at precisely noon tomorrow.  
><em>_You may keep the bracelet as a token of good faith, as I wish to disregard past unpleasantness and start anew._

_Sincerely,_

_Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy_

Hermione peered inside the envelope, and there was, indeed, a silver chainlink bracelet resting at the bottom. It seemed rather plain by Malfoy standards, but it was pretty in a simple way to her, and she was intrigued by the gesture. Perhaps Narcissa truly was going to give her a chance.

She stuffed the letter back into the envelope and looked up to see her friends silently begging for an answer to Ron's question.

"It's a lunch invitation from someone who heard about my potions research," she replied smoothly. Dear Merlin, Draco really was rubbing off on her. Then again, it was perfectly conceivable that Narcissa could have heard about it from Draco, so it didn't have to be a _lie_, per se.

Ron and Harry accepted it easily, debating which famous witch or wizard would make even Hermione Granger starstruck, but Ginny's worried eyes told her she knew exactly whom it was from.

~~~\~~~

The Great Hermione Granger, Celebrated Co-Defeater of Voldemort, War Heroine, Upcoming Potioneer, and Brightest Witch of Her Age, was hyperventilating into a paper bag, as her best female friend rubbed her back soothingly.

"You'll be _fine_, Hermione," Ginny said for the fiftieth time in two hours.

Hermione shook her head. She had purposefully stayed the night at Grimmauld Place, avoiding Draco, because she knew that her anticlimactic boyfriend was going to act like the impending meeting with his mother was nothing life-altering. But it meant _everything _to her.

Sure, Draco had started dating her without his mother's approval, but Hermione was in love with him now. She wanted to marry him some day, and she didn't want to do anything that would make his mother disapprove of the match. Hence, why she was currently freaking out that she would never live up to Narcissa's expectations of a proper girlfriend, let alone future-daughter-in-law.

The brunette finally removed the bag from her mouth.

"I'm not Malfoy-material, Gin! His mother is right. She's expecting him to settle down with a witch who is just as cold and manipulative as the rest of the family and I just can't be! You remember how scathing Draco could be in school. She's going to tear me to shreds in an instant!"

"If I remember correctly, which I do, you gave as good as you got back in school. I very much doubt that you won't be able to keep up, if she does try anything," Ginny stated confidently. "Who else could keep Draco Malfoy on his toes long enough to fall in love?"

Hermione shrugged, not sure what to say. She wanted to believe she was good enough, but felt like that would be impractically optimistic.

Ginny huffed. "Seriously, Hermione. Go put on the lovely dress I'm letting you borrow, put on that brave Gryffindor face, and go show her how you defeated Voldemort!"

"Harry defeated Voldemort; Ron and I just helped him get there."

"Same thing. Now go!" Ginny demanded.

Hermione sighed, but did as she was told, dragging herself into the hallway and then into the bathroom. She stared at the aforementioned lovely dress, hanging behind the bathroom door.

It was a pretty, emerald green dress, modest yet stylish. The shoulder straps were thick and formed a square neckline. The bunched empire waist gave it some detail, and the pleated skirt didn't restrict her legs, falling just above the knee.

Ginny also insisted she wear the matching emerald suede pumps, which seemed a little too much heel for her comfort, but she was afraid to magically alter it, lest she do something irreversible. Gin wouldn't let her borrow anything ever again if she ruined her clothing.

She donned the outfit and nervously fiddled with her hair, trying to decide if Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy would prefer she wear her hair up or down. Was there a hair-code for luncheons? She couldn't make her hair stay in a proper shape while up, so she let it all down again.

Ginny knocked on the door.

"Hermione, it's almost time!"

The brunette bit her lip, trying to calm her heart rate and failing. She felt like she was walking into a trap and had no idea what to expect. Damn Draco for forcing this on her so soon! He should have talked about his mother more, so she'd have _some _sort of idea...

But then again, she _had _slept here last night. She could have gone home and begged for his expertise. Instead, she had taken the coward's route and now she had to suffer the consequences.

She took a couple fortifying breaths, squared her shoulders, held her head high, and opened the door. What would happen, would happen. She just had to trust in her own intelligence and common sense.

She could do this.

Ginny helped put the silver bracelet on her wrist and fussed over her hair and dress.

Her friend's encouraging smile was last thing she saw before the portkey activated. She clutched her now emerald-colored beaded bag for dear life and prayed that she and Narcissa could "start anew" without throwing any hexes, or worse, unforgivable insults.

~~~\~~~

The first thing Hermione noticed when she regained her footing was that she was surrounded by a wall of tall hedges. Her eyes followed them and she concluded that she was in a sort of maze-like garden. She slowly walked forward, the only direction she could go, stumbling a bit as she wasn't quite used to wearing so high of a heel. When she felt like she had gotten the hang of it, she strode the rest of the way.

When she reached the corner, the maze opened up into a proper garden, with rows and rows of flowers and bushes. She suspected this was where Draco had gotten the idea for their garden. She fought the urge to wander down the rows, instead searching for Narcissa. This must be the location of the luncheon, as Hermione hoped his mother wasn't so cruel as to promise her only son to play nice and then stick his girlfriend in the middle of Merlin-knew-where.

It looked like there might be a clearing on the other side, so Hermione walked down the widest row and was rewarded with the sight of an ornate white patio table and two matching chairs. Narcissa sat in one, leisurely pouring two cups of tea.

Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy was a stunning woman, and was all the more intimidating for it. She wore baby blue robes, no doubt personally tailored, which highlighted her cerulean eyes. Her long, pale blonde hair flowed freely down her back and rippled as she moved.

Hermione did not consider herself a vain person, but as the older woman lifted her head and scanned her from head to toe, she felt embarrassingly ugly. She stamped down the sudden urge to run and hide, instead choosing to approach the table.

Narcissa stood and played the part of a gracious hostess.

"Thank you for coming. Shall we get the required niceties out of the way first? I am Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy, but you may call me Narcissa, as Mrs. Malfoy was my mother-in-law, and Mrs. Black-Malfoy is quite a mouthful. Draco insisted that I not force you to step foot inside the Manor proper, so I have set up a private space for us in a small section of my personal garden, where I hope you will feel comfortable enough."

Hermione was stunned at the odd mixture of formality and familiarity in the witch's speech, yet the peculiarity of it seemed to solidify her intimidating demeanor, as if Narcissa meant to keep her guessing. Not to mention that her brain threatened to malfunction while fathoming exactly how big this _personal _garden was.

"Thank you for inviting me, Narcissa. I am Hermione Granger, and you may call me Hermione. I thank you for taking into consideration your son's suggestion, as I do feel comfortable out here, among recognizable specimens."

Narcissa's lips quirked up on one side, a mere shadow of Draco's smirk, but Hermione could tell he inherited it at least partially from her.

"It is lovely to meet you, Hermione. Shall we sit? The tea has just been brought out, so it should be ready to drink momentarily."

The brunette nodded, sitting down nervously in the proffered seat.

"Now tell me," Narcissa began, "which is your favorite specimen that you see?"

It was quite the question, considering she'd hardly had any time to have a good look at everything. She scanned the rows quickly, her eyes landing on a curious lump of green vines and light green tendrils in the nearest row. It was curious because, the closer she looked, she started noticing more than one group of them among the rows.

"I think...the Flitterbloom plants are the most unexpected. Why are there so many of them? I'm counting at least two per row, and they're usually considered too dull to be part of such an exotic garden."

Narcissa smiled mysteriously, taking her first sip of tea. "For protection."

The brunette frowned, pouring the right amounts of cream and sugar into her tea. "Protection? But Flitterblooms are harmless."

The blonde's shadow-smirk widened just a bit. "Yes, they are," she agreed.

"So then how do they protect anything?"

"By doing what they do best," she replied cryptically.

Hermione's frown deepened, turning her head to stare at the specimen in question again.

"Their only notable feature is their resemblance to Devil's Snare." She stopped short, facing the elder witch again. "You don't honestly think anyone is going to confuse the two, when these plants are clearly in open air and get sunlight all day long, do you?"

She tried to keep her condescending tone to a minimum, but it had slipped out anyway.

Despite her fear, Narcissa's smirk turned fully amused. Draco definitely got his smirk from his mother.

"I find that those who envy my garden the most are not aware of the time and effort it takes to maintain it."

Hermione couldn't decide if she was more frustrated or intrigued by the way the blonde spoke, which was starting to remind her of Luna 'Loony' Lovegood. She could have simply said, 'people are dumber than you think,' but she hadn't.

Perhaps the elder witch was testing her reputed intelligence?

"But enough about trivial subjects," Narcissa said imperially, her mischievous expression switching to serious in a blink. "I'm sure you realize the main reason for this luncheon."

_Yes, where exactly _is_ the food?_ Hermione thought shrewdly. "I am dating your son."

The blonde dipped her head in acknowledgement. "And how long have you been doing so?"

The younger witch hesitated. When exactly had they decided to start dating? She hadn't accepted him as a boyfriend until the last couple weeks, but they had been physically together much longer than that. Had they completely skipped the dating-but-not-boyfriend-girlfriend phase? Or was having copious amounts of sex considered dating?

"He never mentioned it to you? That he was seeing anyone?" she deflected instead.

"No, he never said a word about you," the other witch responded callously.

Hermione mentally narrowed her eyes. It was almost as if Narcissa were trying to provoke a reaction, trying to test her to see what made her tick. Well, she was about to do some testing of her own, then.

"Not a word? To his own mother?" she asked in shock. "I told my parents immediately. Then again, they are much more open-minded about these things than most parents, so I can understand his hesitation to reveal me to you."

She took a sip of tea, careful to imitate the way Narcissa was holding her own cup, to hide her pleasure at coming up with such a quick response.

The elder witch raised a sculpted eyebrow. "Are they really? I suppose it is much easier for them to accept untraditional options for their child in their position. That is one luxury I do not possess."

And there it was. The first of probably many references to the 'inferiority' of Muggles.

"Perhaps if you met them, you might find they aren't quite as different from you as you imagine them to be," Hermione retorted, thinking about her father's reaction to her news about Draco. His sneer when he had remembered what she had told him about Draco's parents had been ironically worthy of a Malfoy.

Narcissa let out a tinkling, condescending laugh. "What a sense of humour you have."

The brunette couldn't stop herself from scowling, so she quickly hid her lips behind another sip of tea.

"What of this potion you've developed with Morwena? Have you heard from St. Mungo's?" the other witch continued, oblivious to Hermione's stiff expression.

The younger witch almost laughed. It looked like her response to Harry and Ron hadn't been a lie after all. That eased her conscience just a little.

"Just yesterday, actually. It has been deemed worthy to move onto the next phases of testing."

"I congratulate you, then. It must have taken much effort to invent such a contribution."

Hermione's steadily rising dislike jumped up a few notches at the disguised insult. "Thank you, but it truly wasn't that difficult."

The way Narcissa smiled politely and said, "Of course," made her realize that her familiarity with Draco's insults had not prepared her for Narcissa's.

Draco's insults were like a battering ram - blunt, powerful, and shocking to the core, intending to stun his opponent into submission. Narcissa's were like poison in a sweetened cup of tea, tricking her opponent into drinking it with civility, and then dropping a hint to make them question what they had just drank as their body went into shock.

Hermione stared at her tea, contemplating if the other witch was hateful enough to actually poison her.

"Is there an issue, Hermione?" the blonde asked with fake concern.

She shook her head. No, she trusted that Narcissa would not provoke her only son's wrath by poisoning his girlfriend. A mother would have nothing to gain from alienating her own son like that.

So, the brunette put on a smile. "Not at all, Narcissa. I just miss Draco is all. We're not used to being so long apart from each other now that we live together."

The elder witch tilted her head slightly, innocently. "I was not aware your relationship had progressed so far in such a short time."

Hermione did not appreciate being called a slag, but did her best to purse her lips only inside her head.

She soothed her anger by replying sweetly. "It hasn't been that short of a relationship. One could say it started back in Hogwarts." Sure, she was stretching the truth, but Hermione wanted to give Narcissa a taste of her own medicine, to make her wonder how long her son had been keeping secrets from her.

The blonde's reply was cut off by her son approaching her from behind.

***/***

"Mother, what is-" Draco took note of Hermione sitting casually in the seat across from his mother, sipping tea with her pinky finger extended. She looked the very paragon of a purebred daughter enjoying afternoon tea, and he was slightly afraid what his mother had done to his girlfriend in such a short time.

"Mother," he repeated, anger lacing his tone.

She looked up to meet his stern gaze with an innocent expression. "Yes, Darling?"

"I thought I had asked you to refrain from requesting she enter these grounds," he demanded stiffly.

"No, Darling. You merely mentioned it would be unwise to ask her to enter the manor itself. You said nothing of the grounds. But she has already told me she feels quite...at home...around the garden."

He saw Hermione's eyes flash in the corner of his vision, and he knew she had picked up on the insult. He almost wished she hadn't, but then realized that she would have to be less intelligent for that to be true. He decided he preferred an insulted Hermione to an idiot Hermione.

"Nobby!"

The house elf appeared to his mistress' summons and bowed low.

"An extra chair for my son is required. Please, Draco, do sit. Hermione and I were just about to eat."

By her tone, it was not a negotiable request, so Draco sat when Nobby brought the chair and disappeared again.

A couple minutes passed while a couple more elves apparated to set up lunch, despite that it was far past noon.

Draco couldn't decide if he wanted to reprimand his mother in front of Hermione or not. Clearly, the elder witch was playing games and Draco did not appreciate at all that he had known nothing about their meeting from either side. Speaking of which, the next thing he would do would be reprimanding Hermione for leaving him in the state she had and not coming home to him at all.

To be perfectly honest, he was quite cross with both of them. If he had ignored his mother's owl to come visit her, he wouldn't have ever known about this at all.

Bloody witches and their secrets.

The three of them ate quietly, but he was getting more impatient the longer the silence dragged.

He told himself he'd wait another minute before demanding answers from _somebody_ when his mother started up another conversation.

She dabbed at the corner of her lips with her silk napkin before she spoke.

"Hermione, I do adore that color on you. Wherever did you find the dress?"

Draco almost winced. Now his mother's claws were extending in full. She only asked about clothing when she was ready to tear at a woman's confidence and fashion sense until it was shredded beyond recognition. It was a pureblood female's worst nightmare.

Hermione shrugged casually. "I didn't."

His mother's lips just barely hid her smirk. "Whatever do you mean?"

His girlfriend looked up from her food and took her time swallowing.

"I didn't find it. I borrowed it from a friend."

Draco winced.

His mother frowned sympathetically, but he knew she was inwardly preening at forcing the brunette to admit such an embarrassment.

"Oh, you poor dear! I had no idea you were at such a disadvantage! Draco, you should have warned me. I would have sent some robe change along with my invitation."

Draco opened his mouth to defend his girlfriend when said girlfriend reminded him she could do that all by herself.

"Narcissa, that wouldn't have been necessary. It seems you are under the false impression that I am pressed for finances, when I am actually not at all. Your invitation was very short notice, is all. I simply didn't have time to buy a new dress."

"I thought I gave you an entire day to arrange something to wear."

"Oh, you did. But I was visiting with my friends, you see, at the time I received your letter, and they insisted that I stay a while longer. Before I knew it, all the shops had closed, and so my friend, Ginny Weasley, generously offered to lend me one of her dresses. We are very close that way."

Draco stared in shock. His mother was pressing her lips together in the way she did only when she was extremely upset or extremely pleased, and he didn't think she was happy about being embarrassed in such a way. He also didn't think he'd ever heard anyone insult her by implying she didn't have any friends. Of course, the most insulting thing of all was the realization that she had complimented a garment owned by a Weasley.

It pleased him immensely that he had managed to snag a witch brilliant enough to outsmart his own mother. As such, he didn't bother to hide his proud smirk.

While he was tempted to let his mother try to save her dignity, only to get outmaneuvered yet again, he figured she had suffered enough. She disliked being mistaken just as much as Hermione did, and she had _clearly _been mistaken about the muggle-born witch.

"Do you still have any objections to her, Mother?" Draco asked slyly.

"Only one, Darling," she answered. "How are you so sure she isn't another one of..._them_?"

Despite the ambiguity of the pronoun, it couldn't have been clearer that she meant the gold-digging bints that salivated over his body and his money like nifflers.

Apparently, Hermione had taken enough abuse and abruptly stood, her eyes boring into his mother's.

"For your information, I am perfectly financially stable _without _anyone's help. I would _never _choose to date _anyone _based off of their financial status. I am in _love _with your son and he is in love with _me_! Whether you approve or not, you cannot change these facts!"

The possessive ending to her rant made Draco want to kiss her and prove to her just how right she was, hopefully with more than just kissing. They were inextricably bound together by their mutual attraction and he prayed to Merlin that it forever stayed that way. He always laughed when she called him insatiable, but he wondered if she had any inkling as to the true extent of his need for her.

She was the most addictive drug he had ever indulged in. He could completely saturate himself in her scintillating presence, her lusty moans, her burning touch, and her velvet insides, but he was only ever sated temporarily. For the entire month of March, he had kept expecting that one morning he would wake up and realize he was tired of her, that she was suddenly less attractive and more like a harpy.

But that had never happened. So many months later, he was even more addicted to her than he had been before. Every morning that he woke up to her, she seemed more beautiful. The way she sleepily snuggled into the duvet was even more adorable. The way her breasts heaved with every angry breath only got sexier. The urge to silence her lectures with a kiss grew exponentially.

Scarily enough, at this point, he didn't think he could survive without her by his side. The agony of emotional and physical withdrawal would be so acute, so deep, so everlasting...even thinking about her absence made his insides ache.

"Is it true?" his mother finally demanded, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Are you in love with her?"

For the first time in a very long time, he didn't even consider lying to his mother, for any reason whatsoever. The word flowed out of his mouth as easily as air when he exhaled.

"Yes."

He held her suspicious gaze for what seemed like ten minutes before she finally sighed.

But it wasn't a sigh of exasperation, or disappointment, or even exhaustion. It was a sigh of...relief?

He frowned, and noticed his girlfriend stare at the elder witch with confusion as well. His Hermione didn't miss a thing.

His mother smiled with triumph, and Draco considered whether he ought to rush her to St. Mungo's. Had the news of her pureblood son loving a muggle-born caused her mind to snap?

"Mother...?" he asked cautiously.

But she ignored him. She stood up and quickly walked around the table to stand in front of Hermione, who was still standing after her mini-rant.

Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy took the hand of Hermione Granger in both of hers, which shocked his girlfriend into staying silent with wide eyes.

"Please forgive me, Hermione. You must understand, I had to be sure that it was truly you, and that Draco was truly in love before I could agree to the match. I learned long ago not to trust a witch's intentions with my son when he started maturing. Polyjuice, Amortentia, Glamours, and many more tactics have been tried to win his inheritance. I had to be sure."

Hermione nodded dumbly, lost in her own thoughts.

"There was Revealing Potion mixed in with the food," she realized aloud.

It all made sense now. His mother had been pretending to obstinately disapprove because he had admitted his attachment to Hermione so suddenly. Of course she had been suspicious that another ambitious witch had dug her claws into him. She had met the muggle-born privately to test her alone, and then purposefully waited for him to arrive so they could all eat together. That way she could see firsthand if anything wore off or if either of them acted any differently from the removal of any enchantments.

His mother smiled. "I see Draco has not overestimated your intelligence."

Hermione blushed, but Draco smirked triumphantly for her. "Told you so, Mother."

~~~\~~~

**A/N2: **What do you think? I know it's probably not worth waiting 3 months for (sorry again!) but I should be able to get back to a reasonable updating schedule now. To continue our little word game, give me a food, something red, and a body part. Go! Until next time, my lovelies!


	16. Step 14: Finding a Cause

**A/N:** I've decided I'm going to stop making promises of when I'm going to update next because it's just not going to happen that way. The Powers That Be or whatever have been throwing banana peels at my feet, which has not been fun. To be fair, though, this has actually been the hardest chapter to write so far because I'm at that point where I have to start making everything come together, which is much more difficult than I had assumed. I'm doing it, but it's obviously taking longer. To give you an idea of how long, I've re-written this chapter at least eight times, adding and deleting scenes, completely refocusing the point of the chapter, and driving myself mental over word choice. I'm pretty happy with this final draft, but, as always, don't be afraid to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always helpful, even if I don't end up agreeing with you. I still take it into consideration, so it's never a waste of time.

Lastly, I do want to mention that several of you asked me if Draco and Hermione were actually going to take five years to get married, as was implied in Professor Morgana's excerpt last chapter. The short answer is, 'hell no'. The longer answer is, 'Draco's way too impatient to wait that long, so rest assured he will legally claim Hermione way sooner than that. Professor Morgana was just exaggerating because she was feeling bitter at being deceived so deftly, but that's a whole other story.'

Now on with the show!

~~~\~~~

Step 14: Finding a Cause

_A Malfoy-to-be is never idle. With an exorbitantly large bank account at one's disposal and the very sexist tradition of the wizards making money whilst the witches spend it...well, one can only redecorate a space so many times before one becomes dreadfully bored. Thus, every Malfoy's fiancée finds a cause to devote herself to. Oftentimes the witch chooses a public charity to placate society, but sometimes she thinks a little differently and takes it upon herself to fix other people, or one person in particular._

_~~~\~~~_

_King Snake,_

_Bluebird and I have come to a stalemate and need a third opinion. Do you think the cub prefers the color blue or purple? I have never met a witch who didn't like purple, but Bluebird insists that she would prefer blue because she has so many male friends. Of course, it would only be fitting that a Malfoy wedding features at least one deep shade of purple in acknowledgement of our ancient ties to royalty, but Bluebird says that, in honor of the mandrake breaking many traditions by marrying the cub, we ought not to have a traditional wedding in other ways. _

_Thoughts?_

_Also, please do stop worrying over the cub. She is perfectly delightful and entertaining, and the potion she has submitted to St. Mungo's for testing has passed the first phase. I have no doubt she will make you proud. _

_Blackbird_

_***/***_

_Blackbird,_

_Why you assume that I would know the cub's color preference is beyond my comprehension. The very few conversations I have held with her outside of potion-making have never ventured so far as to personal preferences of anything. Would it not be more prudent to ask her yourself? _

_I have no interest in advising you on planning other people's weddings for them, so do not ask me such inane questions._

_I will worry as much as it pleases me until the trials are over and St. Mungo's has informed us of the final results. I cannot fathom why you believe her to be so charming, with her incessant need to be right about every topic in the universe, but I suppose it is your own ambitious nature that drives you to tolerate people long enough for you to meddle in absolutely everything. _

_King Snake_

_***/***_

_Bluebird,_

_King Snake is of absolutely no help at all, but since the mandrake prefers purple, I strongly suggest we choose that. _

_Blackbird_

_***/***_

_Blackbird,_

_There is nothing wrong with a strong blue. It has been the traditional choice of wedding robe for centuries, and if my memory does not fail me, which it doesn't, you wore an ocean blue robe to your wedding, so I can't see why you are so suddenly against the color. Purple is so cliché these days ever since that one person from the Strange Sitters wore some ugly purple get-up that would make anyone's eyes mercifully bleed so they wouldn't have to look anymore. Dreadful taste, that one. I am telling you, blue is the right choice._

_Bluebird _

_***/***_

_Bluebird,_

_Two letters ago, you were insisting on throwing out tradition, so why do you now advocate a traditional blue? The Weird Sisters' guitarist was wearing an awful shade of purple, I agree, but that was a bright purple, not a deep purple - which never goes out of style, may I remind you. Yet again, we are at an impasse, but I know not who else we can ask for direction. Have you any ideas?_

_Blackbird_

_***/***_

_Blackbird,_

_Leave it to me. I shall find out from the cub herself and report back._

_Bluebird_

_***/***_

_Bluebird,_

_If you are planning to visit, then I insist on joining you. I haven't seen them since I invited them for tea and feel so lonely in this big house with no one for company. I shall owl the mandrake to inform him of our arrival tomorrow at noon. Shall we have lunch together?_

_Blackbird_

_***/***_

_Blackbird,_

_Very clever you are, playing the lonely card. Fortunately, my husband has informed me he expects to depart next Thursday. If you are so desperately lonely, you may help me this coming week to prepare for his arrival on Friday. See you tomorrow._

_Bluebird_

_***/***_

_Draco Darling,_

_Your great aunt and I have been so terribly bored in our respective homes that we are starving for company. Uncle Titus is not expected until Friday, so his wife needs to be distracted from her anticipation. May we visit you and Hermione tomorrow at noon? I do hope you haven't slipped back into that nasty habit of sleeping half the day away, or you will deprive Hermione of enough to time to make herself presentable. You do not want to embarrass her so, do you? I simply can't wait to hear what has transpired since we last met. I love you, my Darling._

_Mother_

Draco sighed as he stood next to the window, shaking his head at the parchment. It had been one bloody week and she was acting like they hadn't seen each other in months.

"Who's that from?" Hermione asked curiously, looking up from her book of the hour.

They had both curled up in the arm chairs in the library, her feet folded underneath her while he had stretched his legs out, simply reading in silence. It was one of the things he most loved about her. She was perfectly content with a shared silence, whereas other witches like Pansy would talk his ear off all day if he didn't stop them. Others would hum to themselves absentmindedly, but Hermione relished the lack of noise whenever she could, probably because she'd had enough of it being around rowdy Gryffindors at school and the Weasleys the rest of the time.

"Mother. She wants to visit tomorrow with Aunt Morwena."

Hermione smiled. For some unfathomable reason, she and Great Aunt Morwena had gotten as close as family in a ridiculously short time. He wondered if maybe it was because she was one of the few young witches his aunt actually respected.

"Sounds great," she said happily. "What time are they coming over?"

"Noon." He mentally groaned. His mother was making him get up early on purpose.

His girlfriend rolled her eyes. "Oh stop, you big baby. We can't sleep in every day."

He raised an eyebrow, faking confusion.

She smirked. "I can hear your internal grumbling from here. You've never liked getting up earlier than noon, anyway. And I should know, considering you drag me back to bed whenever my bladder wakes me up earlier than that."

"Bloody morning people," he grumbled aloud.

Her laughter soothed his irritation. How was it possible that he found her _laughter _attractive? Pansy's laughter had always had a sinister quality to it, though that could have been because she had faked it most of the time.

"Oh, shoot! I completely forgot!" Hermione burst out suddenly, marking her page and rushing out of her chair to put it back on the 'Currently Reading' shelf.

He frowned. "Where are you going?"

"I promised Gin I would tell her all about my meeting with Narcissa when I got back, but I was so happy and…"

"I distracted you the moment we got home," he supplied with a smirk.

She paused for a moment, her expression a mix of amusement and embarrassment. "Yes, that," she acknowledged, blushing.

That was another thing he loved. She still blushed like a virgin whenever he blatantly reminded her of anything related to their 'alone time', as she called it.

A moment later, she was back to bustling around in and out of their bedroom, gathering things together for her outing with her friend. He heard a muffled shout, and she eventually hopped back out on one foot.

"Pinky toe got caught on the corner of the vanity," she explained, still wincing.

"When will you be back?" he frowned in commiseration, hiding his disappointment at her departure.

She finally reached the chairs and shoved the last few things into her magically expanded beaded bag. She approached him, reached up on tiptoe with a hand cupping his cheek, and pecked him on the lips.

"I don't know. Gin and I have a tendency to get carried away. I love you." She lowered herself back down.

"You too," he grunted, displeased with her answer.

She put her free hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows, giving him a pointed look. His response was completely unacceptable.

He was very tempted to remain obstinate, just to keep her here longer, but he knew that would only make her cross and incline her to stay away for longer when she did leave.

"Love you too," he amended reluctantly.

After thoroughly abusing the correlation of speaking the word 'love' in her presence and her favorable reaction to it each time he said it, he was much more comfortable with saying it in other contexts. But, to keep some of his pride intact, he refused to say it like a sappy, love-struck fool. It was just another statement of fact.

She smiled lightly. "Good enough…for now. We'll work on that."

He scoffed. "Never satisfied, you are."

Her smile grew to a grin. "I'll be back before you know it. Didn't you say that there were still some things you had to do before your uncle comes back?"

"Yes, I did," he admitted.

"So work on that. That will keep you busy so you don't pine."

"Malfoys do not pine," he retorted.

She looked ready to laugh, but thought better of it due to his glare.

"Of course they don't."

She kissed him one last time so quickly that he didn't have time to respond. It only increased his disappointment. Then she was gone, leaving him alone.

The owl his mother had sent hooted, reminding him it was waiting for an answer.

He scowled at it and scribbled an answer before sending it off. Bloody witches. They were going to be the death of him one of these days.

For lack of something else to do, he took Hermione's advice and pulled out the stack of parchment his realtor had sent him regarding his uncle's properties. They were mere formalities at this point, but had to be signed and dated nonetheless.

Two hours later, a different owl tapped on his window.

Glad for the distraction, as he had been forming a headache for the last half hour, he let the barn owl in.

_Draco,_

_No doubt your mother has already informed you of my impending arrival this coming Friday. My wife has mentioned that you have the proper forms for our business nearly complete, only needing my signature. If you like, we may sit down and complete them all next Saturday without distraction. I am planning to keep the witches occupied with prime tickets to the opera, in France. They were a gift from the French Minister, as his family has other engagements. He also hinted that he would be amenable to introducing you to his daughter Isabelle, if you are interested. She is about your age, having just finished her schooling at Beauxbatons this past year. She is very sweet and has no interest in marrying for gold, as her family has plenty of it themselves. Perhaps you will agree to meet her? We can speak more on Saturday, but I decided I'd give you some time to think on it beforehand._

_See you soon,_

_Uncle Titus_

The first emotion Draco felt was relief that Lucius was dead. He would have positively drooled over the prospect of his son marrying into the French Ministry, which would have created a plethora of new political connections as well as filling the coffers.

The second emotion was curiosity. Even though Draco rarely spoke to his uncle, due to the elder wizard's business travels, Uncle Titus was never this insistent whenever introducing an idea. He usually let others make up their own minds because his parents had tried to ingrain pureblood prejudice into him. He had been the right combination of stubborn and logical to resist indoctrination as soon as he was old enough to ask questions, so it hadn't been that much of a shock when he had rebelled openly as a teenager. Draco, on the other hand, hadn't been so lucky. But as Draco had aged, questioning his father's beliefs, he had looked to Uncle Titus for answers, secretly, of course. Hermione had been the catalyst for his disillusionment, but Uncle Titus had been the confirmation and reassurance.

So why was Uncle Titus pushing so hard for him to meet pureblood Isabelle? It was true that, as far as Draco had seen, the French elite weren't nearly as blood obsessed as the British elite, but it still wasn't like him to hint so heavily what he thought should be done. They would definitely have to discuss it on Saturday.

The rest of the day dragged by, and eventually Hermione returned well after supper.

"Draco, I'm home!" she called from downstairs, and relief flooded his system. These bloody forms were so monotonous, he was ready to curse himself blind.

A few minutes later, she made her way into the library and half-smirked.

"And here you are, exactly where I left you."

He scowled at her implication. "If you'd like to help fill these out, then by all means..."

She laughed. "Sorry, I don't think I'd be much help to you."

"So what did you and Weaselette do today?"

She rolled her eyes at the nickname. "_Ginny_ and I went shopping in Muggle London. Oh! And we ran into Oliver Wood! Do you remember him?"

"Gryffindor Keeper until he graduated and then got recruited by Puddlemere?"

"Precisely. We ran into him in one of the stores and then caught up over a late lunch. Apparently, he has a squib cousin whom he visits in Muggle London every once in a while, especially when the Quidditch season ends. His cousin is a _dentist_, can you believe it? My mum always says it's a small world, but sometimes I don't really believe her, you know? Next time I visit I'll have to ask my parents if they know of him."

Having finished her story, she set her beaded bag down on one of the chairs with her left hand and reached into it with her right. She bit her lip, pushing her arm in well past her elbow, and then she smiled.

"Ah, _there_ you are!" She yanked and a gigantic shopping bag come out of it. She set it down and reached back into the bag.

Draco watched, astounded, as she repeated the movement eight more times.

"You bought all those clothes?" he asked.

Her smile turned sheepish. "No. Well, they're not clothes."

He craned his neck to look into one of the bags from his seat. In this one sat three neat stacks of books, reaching all the way to the brim of the bag.

Of course. When Hermione went on a shopping spree, she bought tons and tons of _books_.

He rolled his eyes.

"Our muggle history section is hardly existent," she defended, starting to unpack the books she had apparently arranged by subject.

"So you felt the urge to buy _nine _whole bags of them?" he drawled.

"I wasn't sure if my beaded bag would hold more than that," she replied simply. "I've never really tested for maximum capacity."

Draco laughed. Gods, she was a strange one. He wondered if she'd actually buy out a book store if she had enough space to carry all those books.

"Why don't you just buy a book store and be done with it?" he suggested half-seriously.

She straightened up with a stack of books in her arms and tilted her head.

"Well, it's not a _terrible_ idea, but I'd feel bad competing with Flourish and Blotts..."

"So sell muggle books, then."

Her brows furrowed. "Do you think wizards would want to buy them?"

He shrugged, thinking it a grand joke at first, but then his brain started calculating the potential profit. He was not currently aware of a wizarding bookstore that sold muggle literature. With pureblood mania on the decline after the war and with Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister for Magic, it was possible wizards in general might be persuaded to try them out.

"They might. There are bound to be more wizards than just Arthur Weasley interested in muggles, aren't there?" he reasoned.

Hermione gaped at him, carefully set down her armful of books, then dashed over and kissed him firmly on the lips.

"You're absolutely _brilliant_!" she breathed in-between pecks.

He smirked proudly against her mouth. "I know," he replied, grabbing her waist and walking backward, careful to step over the piles of books on the floor.

He finally plopped backward into the crimson plush chair Hermione normally read in. They had already broken in his hunter green chair, and every time he sat down, he was reminded of it. He decided he wanted to give her a good memory for her chair, too.

Hermione squeaked as she fell with him, but his arms held her stable enough so she straddled his lap. It took her a couple seconds to get her bearings, but then she attacked his mouth with a passion that stoked his own.

He magically vanished their clothing and let her have her wicked, wicked way with him.

~~~\~~~

The next morning, Hermione dragged him out of bed at an unreasonable hour to get ready for his mother and Aunt Morwena's arrival.

Bloody morning people.

At exactly noon, the elder witches arrived via floo. Hermione took pity on his disgruntled state and welcomed them in herself. His mother shot him a look for being a terrible host, but he didn't care. He still ought to be sleeping.

He stared right back, raising an eyebrow. She pursed her lips and then turned away, focusing her attention on the conversation he couldn't be bothered to acknowledge.

"Boy, either get over here and sit down or leave!" his aunt commanded. "We have important matters to discuss without your improper loitering."

He considered making up some excuse and leaving, until Hermione shot him her own brand of the you-are-being-unbelievably-rude look. So he sat, tapping his finger on the edge of the arm.

His mother and aunt shared an amused look, which made him scowl. He was not a trained pet in the least. He just didn't want to suffer Hermione's wrath later on.

"Hermione, what do you think of this room's color?" his mother began, motioning to the light blue walls.

Draco rolled his eyes. _This _was the oh-so-important matter they had to discuss? The wall color?

At least his girlfriend seemed just as taken aback by the question.

"Well...I think it's a pretty shade, I suppose," she said slowly.

"Too right," Aunt Morwena agreed.

"Yes, it is a very pretty shade, but I would have preferred a shade of purple. Do you like purple?"

Hermione tried to hide her confusion at such a trivial conversation topic, which made the conversation that much more tolerable. Watching other people be put on the spot was usually some decent entertainment.

She shot him a look, asking if he knew what was going on, but he barely shrugged. She was on her own for this one.

She silently huffed at him and then turned back to his mother.

"I wouldn't say I'm especially fond of either color as a wall color," she hedged.

"Then which one would you choose?"

She shrugged. "A pale yellow, maybe? I haven't given it much thought, really."

His mother tilted her head thoughtfully. "Interesting..."

"You haven't given much thought to decorations, either," his aunt noted. "This room is barren aside from the necessary furniture. Why don't you have any pictures, and how do you intend to fix that?"

Hermione was too shocked to respond right away, so Draco decided to save her some embarrassment.

"To be honest, Aunt, we've been too distracted with other things to worry about such inane topics."

His aunt gave a short laugh."You have, have you? Well, now is a good time to start thinking about it. I don't see a single rose or vase anywhere."

"I agree," his mother interjected. "A bouquet would really pull the room together. Do you have a favorite flower, Hermione?"

"Probably a sunflower, if she likes yellow, or daisies," his aunt guessed.

"But violets and hyacinths are just so darling, aren't they?"

"I prefer blue hydrangeas and periwinkles myself."

Draco almost laughed at how lost Hermione looked, watching the elder witches debate their favorite flowers. She didn't realize that this was what his mother spent all her time on, decorating and sharing her opinions.

"Which do you prefer, Hermione?" his mother asked again. "Purple or blue?"

"Er...white, actually. My favorite flower is white morning glory."

"White is such a bland color, if you ask me," his aunt argued. "No personality at all."

"But together, perhaps purple, blue, and white morning glories wouldn't be so plain," his mother suggested as a truce.

"I'd have to see it, but it's a possibility," his aunt conceded.

Hermione smiled at his mother in thanks. "I think that sounds lovely."

The pleased smile on his mother's face tipped him off. This wasn't just a social call, but what would flowers have to do with anything? Perhaps she was planning to expand her garden?

"Oh, you know what would be just darling on the floo mantle? A candle. Do you prefer white candles, too?"

His mother got far too excited about these things, but he was always glad to see her break out of her cold shell. It didn't hurt to let her indulge in something harmless. Besides, he had his own indulgences that distracted him from anything to do with the war, so he couldn't blame her.

"I...suppose. I don't think I have a favorite candle color."

"I've just had an idea!" his mother announced. "A purple candle in the center with the white morning glory flowers surrounding it, and then blue and purple ones surrounding that. Or should all the colors be braided together into a wreath, which surrounds the candle? If the latter, there should be more white than colored to complement the candle-"

"I think they'd look better as mixed loose flowers, not necessarily in a wreath, with a blue candle," his aunt interjected.

"But that would be so messy," his mother countered.

"Not if the mantle were bigger, leaving plenty of room for the other decorations."

This was no longer entertaining, instead getting more boring by the second. Would they notice if he just up and left? He preferred his eyes bleeding over his uncle's property forms. Perhaps his eyes had already started bleeding without him noticing? His mother's robes were awfully red...like blood. He mentally shoved away the multitude of memories threatening to surface. How could his mother even _look _at that color, let alone wear it, without remembering? He had to get out of here, or think of something else.

As soon as he shifted to stand up, Hermione shot him an angry look. 'Oh no you don't,' it said. 'If I have to suffer, then so do you! And don't think I won't hex you if you leave me here!'

He sighed and readjusted his position while his mother and aunt argued about exactly how big the mantle would have to be in order for the loose flowers to work with other decorations.

He couldn't let his mind wander, so he directed it to his usual standby. Would Hermione mind a round after the guests left?

He caught her gaze and quirked an eyebrow with a sexy smirk. She blushed, but rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him in exasperation. No? Well, he'd just have to convince her later, then.

He allowed himself to imagine just _how _he was going to convince her later on, but was jerked back to reality by the sound of his name.

"Draco, Darling, do at least pretend to pay attention," his mother admonished.

"Now, Narcissa, let boys be boys. I'm starving, anyway. We should get lunch now."

He silently thanked Merlin when they said their goodbyes and left.

Now, about that fantasy with Hermione and their sex sofa...

***/***

Hermione didn't really know what to think. Narcissa had told Draco in the letter that it was a social visit with no real purpose, but it seemed so...concentrated? Directed? Trivial? It frustrated her that she couldn't think of an appropriate word, but the suspicion itself was more worrisome.

"Is your mother always like that during social calls?" she asked.

Draco shrugged, moving to the spot next to her. "Mostly. She likes to distract herself from thinking about Lucius and everything that happened."

She nodded. "That's understandable." It probably wasn't healthy to just block it all out, but it was understandable. "How do you deal with the war? Working?"

"And sex," he smirked, playing with a lock of her hair.

She laughed, but abruptly stopped. Hadn't she noted before that he seemed to want it all the time? Was he using it as a coping mechanism? Was he actually addicted?

"Speaking of which-" he started.

"That's not all you do, though, right?" she blurted out. "You talk about it with your mother, don't you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why would I do that? She doesn't like thinking about it, and neither do I."

She frowned. "You haven't talked about it...at all?"

He stared at her blankly, not bothering to repeat himself.

Sure, she didn't have a psychology degree or anything, but she was pretty certain that wasn't healthy. She, Harry, and the Weasleys had cried off and on, separately and together, for a full month before they had been ready to hint at the subject of Fred's death, among everything else, but they eventually did. They had forced themselves, because they'd just _had _to.

She remembered that Draco had taken to drinking Firewhisky like water during the war, and apparently he had stopped that, which was good. But what if he had replaced obsessive drinking with obsessive sex? That was just as unhealthy, wasn't it? Emotionally speaking, anyway.

"Well, I think you should. Both of you. It would be good for you to get it all out."

He scoffed. "Trust me, Granger, that wouldn't be good for either of us."

Her courage faltered at his stiff tone. He was getting angry. But that was part of the healing process, wasn't it? She was going to have to go back to that muggle book store and get more books on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. There was no way, with everything he'd been through, that he hadn't developed it to some degree, but it sounded like he'd only been covering it up instead of dealing with it.

"It's hard, I know, but you have to deal with it, Draco."

"I am dealing with it."

"No, you're not. It sounds like you're just blocking it out and trying to make yourself forget."

"And I'm still a functioning member of society, aren't I?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"So that's it. I'm dealing with it," he said with finality.

"That's not dealing with it. You have to talk about it-"

"I don't _have_ to do anything. Can't you just let things be, instead of harping on? I never thought I'd feel sorry for Potter and Weasley, but if this is what they had to deal with all the time..."

She felt like she had been slapped by his malicious tone, but reminded herself he was just lashing out at her, which was completely normal, no matter how much it hurt.

"You don't have to talk to me about it. You can go see someone, a stranger who can be objective-"

Draco stood up, scowling. "There is _nothing_ wrong with me," he said forcefully, before walking out of the house and disapparating with a loud crack.

Well, this was going to be difficult.

~~~\~~~

**A/N2: **I can't believe it's been a year since I first posted the Prologue! Thank you so much to those who have stuck with me from the beginning, especially with my recent lags in updating, but I of course love all of you oodles and bunches, no matter when you joined the party! Your homework this time: describe an obnoxious wedding guest whom you've seen, heard of, or the stereotype that every wedding has. Until next time, lovies!


	17. Step 15: Beware the Friends

**A/N: **Hello my lovies! Hokay, so one reason I took so long this time (which I take full responsibility for) is that I realized Draco and Hermione have completely derailed me from my original intention with this story. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't meant to get so deeply serious with them, but that's where they led me, so when I sat down to outline what would happen in this chapter, I realized I was so far off that my original plans didn't even make sense anymore. Hence, it took me a while to figure out where this is going and how I can still keep the basic ideas this is based on. What I came up with...well, you'll see as we go, but I feel I should warn you now, as you'll see in this chappie, things are taking a slightly darker turn.

Also, **freedomgeneratio** made a very good suggestion that I start doing a sort of summary at the beginning of each chapter so you don't have to read the chapters all over again just to remember what happened. Personally, I like re-reading fics like that, but I totally understand how that can be annoying/frustrating to do every time an author updates. So here's my first go at a recap:

**Recap: **Harry and Ginny are keeping Ron occupied so he doesn't ask too many questions about where Hermione is most of the time. Hermione pushed too hard for Draco to seek psychological help because she suspects he's developed an addiction to sex as a coping mechanism for dealing with war trauma. Draco left after their argument, taking her suspicions as a personal attack.

~~~\~~~

Step 15: Beware the Friends

_As you've no doubt noticed, the Malfoy family is full of proud Slytherins who are infamous for their way with words. Such devious creatures attract each other, not only because they have similar mindsets, but because they're all filthy rich with both money and the ambition to gain more of it. While you can be sure that Malfoys themselves can be loyal to an infuriating fault, that trait only applies to family. The "associates" of any Malfoy are greedy, slippery gits with their own agendas. It is often said that Malfoys have no true friends, but I find this not entirely true. It is possible for a Malfoy to find a kindred soul that is not a wife or lover, but it is rare enough that all Malfoys are taught to never let their guard down for a moment, lest that be the moment the knife is firmly plunged into them._

~~~\~~~

Hermione spent the rest of the day integrating her new books into their library, vacillating between guilt at pushing Draco to do something he very clearly didn't want to do and determination to help him despite himself. She realized now that every time she had rolled her eyes at him, thinking he had been exaggerating to the point of a one-track mind, he had been completely honest. It was all the more concerning that he didn't think an addiction to sex was a bad thing. True, it wasn't as physically unhealthy as a drug addiction was, but wasn't he tired of forcing himself to not think of so many things?

Evidence of the war was all around them, the memories inescapable. It was so easy to become depressed and to drown in them, but she had slowly learned to accept them like any other uncomfortable memory. When she remembered Fred, Tonks, Remus, Mad-Eye, and the many other Order members who had been sacrificed for Voldemort's death, she reminded herself their deaths hadn't been in vain. Their deaths had been...necessary, in a way. Open war had been the only way to kill Tom Riddle. Open war demanded casualties. There had been a purpose, one they all believed in, and no amount of crying or wishing they were alive would bring them back. It was nice to think, too, that Remus was finally able to spend time in whatever afterlife existed with Lily, James, and Sirius, his best friends.

Draco did have a point in that his choice of distraction from the memories didn't seem to be disrupting his life, but it also seemed that sex had become half of his life. Sex and work. She couldn't remember him ever going out for social visits that weren't mandated by his mother. Did he even have any friends?

He had Blaise Zabini, at least. But were they actually friends? It had seemed so, such as when he had handed her over to Draco at the Misuse For Muggle Artifacts charity ball, and when he had lured her from Flourish and Blotts straight to this very house, but Draco never talked about him.

Then again, Draco didn't talk about many personal things. He tended to focus on bragging and insults, especially when the matter at hand had nothing to do with him. He liked telling other people what he thought about them or their decisions, but rarely spoke of his own, unless it was to make someone else feel inferior, of course.

But that wasn't exactly a revelation, considering that he had only managed to admit out loud that he loved her during the height of an explosive argument. He never would have said it otherwise; that had been painfully clear. As much as he swore he rejected everything his father had taught him to believe, she knew that the association of showing emotion and being weak hadn't truly been overwritten.

Perhaps she had come on too strong, she finally concluded. She'd have to be patient and occasionally nudge him in the right direction, that's all. She could show him that it was okay to have flaws. It was okay to feel emotion other than hate and anger, and actually show it. He could be afraid and unsure in front of her. She wouldn't love him any less. He just didn't know all that...yet.

Draco didn't return home until late in the night. He didn't say a word, merely undressing and then sliding into bed next to her. She badly wanted to ask him where he had been, what he had been doing. Had he visited Zabini? Or had he gone straight to a pub and rekindled his long lost love affair with Firewhisky? She wondered what it meant that she was more worried about him possibly out drinking than maybe finding another woman to spend the night with. Not that the latter _didn't _fill her with a sudden urge to hex anything that moved and an impulse to smell him just to make sure he didn't smell of anyone else.

She stared at his bare shoulder blades in the dark, making out the ridges by memory more than simply seeing them. He could be asleep by now. He probably wouldn't even notice if she just leaned over, just a bit...just close enough to get a small wiff...

The next thing she knew, the bed creaked and her nose was a mere inch from his skin. She inhaled and sighed in relief at the familiar scent. Well, that settled that, then. She was very tempted to snuggle up to his back and breathe him in all night, but wasn't sure of his mood, or even if he was awake.

"Do you really think I would do that?"

She started at the sudden sound, belatedly registering his stern tone.

He turned over, staring into her surprised eyes, and that told her he was waiting for an answer.

"Do what?" she asked, nervous and embarrassed that she had been caught sniffing him in a very undignified manner.

He raised an eyebrow at her equivocation. "What would you have done if I smelled of another witch?"

She blushed, thankful that the darkness hid it, even if he knew it was there.

"I...I don't know."

"I think you do," he insisted. "I think you were imagining it the entire time you were staring at my back."

"Not really," she countered honestly.

"What were you thinking about, then?"

"If you were with Zabini at a pub."

"Why Blaise?"

"Do you have any other friends?"

"Why does that matter?"

She sighed. There he went again.

"I want to know if you have more than one friend in the world."

"That depends on your definition of 'friend'."

"Like Harry and Ron."

"I'm not friends with them."

She resisted the urge to strangle him. He was being evasive on purpose, but she couldn't tell if it was because he didn't have any other friends or if he just didn't want her to know about them.

So she sighed, again. "Like how Harry and Ron are _my _best friends."

"Oh."

"...Well?"

"Night, Granger." He turned over away from her.

She almost growled, having had enough of his attitude. "You're not going to sleep."

"I believe I am, actually."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's none of your business."

She silently gaped at him. "We _live _together, and I don't have any right to know who your friends are?"

"You don't ever see them, so why does it matter?"

"I've seen Zabini twice! And because you know all my friends!"

"I'm sure I don't. And I don't care."

"Well I do!"

"You can't force me to meet all your friends."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

"Just go to sleep, Granger. I'm too tired to deal with this."

She sat up, nowhere even close to sleep now. "No! I will _not _let you shut me out like this!"

He sighed and stared at the ceiling. "Granger, you are not thinking clearly. Let's get some sleep and continue this tomorrow."

The _audacity _! How _dare _he tell her she was being irrational! Just because she wanted to know if he had any other friends than Zabini!

The foul words came spilling out of her mouth with hardly any thought, because only he could provoke such a visceral reaction from her.

"Fuck you, Draco," she hissed, rolling out of bed and storming from the room. She slammed the door behind her for good measure.

***/***

Draco pressed his palms into his eyes, feeling a headache starting to form. This was their second argument of the night, and all he had wanted was to slip into unconsciousness, but of course, Hermione Granger had to be difficult. She _had _to talk things out and get the answer to every question because the bloody world would implode if she didn't. She couldn't even wait for the bleeding sun to rise.

He was very tempted to sleep and let her deal with it on her own, but that would only serve to make her angrier, which was bound to come back and bite him in the arse. Moreover, he was irritated with her refusal to accept that he talked about the people he associated with when he felt like it and not a moment sooner. Gods, she was so impatient!

He dragged himself out of bed and stepped into the library. He immediately found her pacing in the sitting area, so he leaned against the wall and watched, waiting for her to expend enough energy to calm down.

After a couple minutes of not even being acknowledged, he decided to just get this over with or neither of them would get any sleep.

"You're going to wear out the floor."

She shot him a glare, but stopped. Brilliant. She had more compassion for the bloody _floor _than for him.

"What, Malfoy?" she asked icily. "What else could you possibly have to say? Come to rub even more salt into the wound?"

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Gods, Granger. Just let it go, will you? It's not the end of the world if you don't meet them."

"It's because I'm not like them, isn't it? You're ashamed of me!" she accused wildly, pointing a finger at him.

It was perfectly clear by now she was hardly thinking about what she was saying. She was being completely controlled by her emotions. It was likewise as clear what he needed to do to snap her out of it, which was, of course, what he had always done best. It also helped that she had given him the perfect opening.

He glared right back at her. "_I'm _ ashamed of _you _?" He let out a disbelieving laugh. "Everybody that _I_ associate with already knows that we're living together, and not a single one has said a word against you. If I am not mistaken, Weasel _still _doesn't know about us because _you _are purposefully keeping him in the dark. When are you going to stop being ashamed of who _I _am?"

She looked equal parts stunned, guilty for provoking him, and angry at his brazenness.

"I'm not ashamed of you," she contradicted at a more reasonable volume. "I'm afraid of what he'll do when he finds out. He's always tried to protect me, and he already sees you as a threat."

"You think I can't defend myself against _Weasel _?" Now he was offended.

She let out a frustrated growl and started pacing again. "No! That's not what I meant. I know you can protect yourself, but Ron doesn't think before he acts. As soon as he hears your name, he goes mental. Can you imagine what he'll do when he hears that we're…intimate?"

"How did he handle what happened at Hogwarts?"

She averted her eyes, and that told him exactly what he had suspected.

"He doesn't know _anything _?"

"Of _course _ not!" she exclaimed almost hysterically. "How was I supposed to tell him that for some idiotic reason I'd almost gone and given you everything in one night, when it took _years _for me to be comfortable enough to try with him? That kissing _you_ was as easy as breathing when I'd always been nervous and unsure with him! That if you hadn't been such an arrogant git that night, I wouldn't have stopped you! I can't _tell _him that!"

She finally started hyperventilating, so he walked over to ease her into the nearest chair, which happened to be hers. She looked so scared that he felt his own protective urges taking over his anger. But he was still right smug about being the clear winner over Weasel. That, at least, made him more inclined to be gentle with her.

"You have to tell him at some point," he reasoned, sitting down with her and pulling her onto his lap.

She snuggled into his embrace, resting her bushy head against his neck and working to calm herself. The frizz sort of tickled a bit, but he ignored it, content that she wasn't yelling anymore.

"I know," she agreed in a tiny, muffled voice.

He looked down at the pitiful sight of Hermione Granger curled up into a ball and scoffed almost inaudibly.

But she heard him, anyway. "What?" she sniffed.

"The Brightest Witch of Our Age, my arse."

She sat up a little and threw him a disgruntled look. "I didn't come up with that, you know."

"No, but you haven't exactly been denying it, have you? Yet, here you are, terrified of a _Weasley _." He shook his head and clucked his tongue in disappointment.

"I seem to recall you having a healthy fear of Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex after she used it on you Fifth Year."

"Ginevra is different," he stated arrogantly.

***/***

Hermione stared in shock, but not just because Draco Malfoy had admitted to respecting a Weasley. No, the most surprising part of that sentence was that he had used Ginny's first name. _Nobody _used her full name except for her mother, and only then when she became extremely cross.

"I'm almost afraid to ask if she has given you permission to use that name."

"She has. She doesn't even let Potter use it," he added smugly.

"Alright, I'll ask. Why do you have permission?"

"Suffice it to say her assistance with my wooing you didn't come cheap, and in the process, we found unexpected common ground on several topics."

Hermione examined his face and body language for any indication of the actual reason. Ginny didn't allow such a privilege simply because they agreed a few times, though that was a remarkable accomplishment. She had forbidden everyone from using it because she hated the way her name sounded. She thought it made her sound ugly, like Eloise or Millicent.

So the only possible explanation was…

"She likes the way you say it," Hermione accused.

His self-assured smirk was enough.

Hermione shook her head with a slight smile, amazed at her boyfriend's charm. He was usually such an intolerable git, but when he wanted to get into someone's good book, he somehow found a way. Maybe there was hope for him and Ron not killing each other after all.

She ducked her head in embarrassment, realizing how mad she must have seemed, yelling and carrying on, when she wasn't much better. He was right. She'd been a bit hypocritical.

"I'm sorry, Draco."

"Good. Can we _finally _get some sleep?"

She nodded.

"Brilliant."

He picked her up without warning, making her squeal in surprise, and hauled her back to bed. She laughed the whole way.

~~~\~~~

The week seemed to fly by, as Hermione found herself more and more excited about Draco's idea of starting her own bookstore. She started drawing plans and compiled a whole stack of notes by Friday.

Draco had asked her once about the ideas she had, and then never asked again. She had talked his ear off for an hour before he simply walked away, telling her to let him know when she needed money. Granted, he probably had only been listening for about five minutes before he had tuned her out and started doing actual work at his desk, but he hadn't said anything or interrupted, so she had kept going.

At the very least, talking it out had made her realize some of the flaws in her original floor plans, like there hadn't been any room for doors because she had used up all the wall space with bookshelves.

At the moment, she was contemplating the store's name, testing out on her tongue everything she could think of from "Hermione Granger's Library" to "The Bookworm's Haven" to "Muggle Books & More". She was quite partial to "The Bookworm's Haven," but she wasn't sure if she wanted it to sound like it was a muggle store or if she wanted that touch of magical society in the name.

While she normally liked to do work and research in the library, today was a rare, sunny day. She had decided to take advantage of that by spreading everything out on the living room floor. The sun felt warm on her skin through the large windows and it also had the added benefit of her seeing Draco the moment he arrived home.

She already had a list of at least twenty possible names to test with her friends when the fireplace roared to life, making her jump.

Zabini's head appeared in the flames and he glanced around the room.

"Ah, Granger. Is Draco there with you?"

Hermione frowned. "No. He's out."

"And you don't perchance know where?"

She shook her head. "Is something wrong?"

"Potentially, but I suppose I could handle it without him. Unless…" he trailed off, sizing her up.

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She remembered exactly how sneaky this particular Slytherin had been with her.

"Unless?"

"If you wouldn't mind assisting me, I suppose you'd do just as well."

"And what, precisely, would that entail?"

"Go on a date with me."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Pretend to, I mean," he amended with a slight smirk.

She turned herself to face him and crossed her arms over her chest. "Spill, Zabini," she demanded.

He grinned at her tone. "I can see why Draco likes you so much. I bet you're into all sorts of kink, aren't you?"

She glared. "Zabini," she warned.

He chuckled. "Alright, alright. The short version is that my mother believes I should follow in her footsteps, to an extent, and has been setting me up with witches every day, and I do mean _every _day. In fact, I have a date planned this very evening. I had originally planned on using Draco again, but he's been much less inclined to help me with this matter ever since he fell madly in love with you. All I need is someone to give her a reason never to see me again."

"How did Draco help you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"He entered the same restaurant."

She frowned in confusion.

"I think you'll agree with me that Draco is far too good-looking for his own good. Witches fall all over themselves because of his 'mystery' and such rubbish every time he walks into a room."

Hermione smiled, remembering how she had used that very fact against him months before in Diagon Alley, and nodded. That was clue enough for her.

"He distracts them and they forget all about you?"

"Precisely."

"So whom are you seeing tonight?"

"Millicent Bulstrode."

Hermione tried not to laugh, but the expression of pain on Zabini's face, and the image of Bulstrode's very real resemblance to a troll was too much. She snorted.

"Go on, laugh at my misfortune. Draco does as well, without reservation. But that's mostly because I had mercilessly teased him about his obsession with you."

"Obsession?" she repeated skeptically.

Blaise raised an equally skeptical eyebrow back at her. "He must have told you by now."

She shook her head and leaned forward, unable to hide her interest.

A loud pop outside signaled Draco's return. He opened the door and Hermione and Zabini turned to look at him.

"Blaise," he acknowledged. "Who's the lucky lady this evening?"

"Bulstrode."

Draco let out a laugh. "Good luck with that, mate."

"Actually, Hermione, here, has magnanimously agreed to help me."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Have you?"

She nodded, then turned back to Zabini. "How _am _I supposed to help you go on a date?"

"By being on a date with me first, obviously," Zabini answered. "Bulstrode will see us together, get jealous, despair about how she could never compete with you, and then leave me alone."

Hermione laughed. "Don't you think it a little strange to pretend to date your friend's girlfriend?"

"No," Zabini said seriously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I'd rather not give any more people a reason to call me a 'scarlet woman', so I can't help you that way, sorry."

"Why would they say that?" Zabini inquired. "You've actually managed to keep your relationship from _The Prophet _ so far."

"Yes, but I helped a friend like this before, and it completely backfired on me," she explained.

Draco didn't like the idea, either, judging by his scowl. "You are not kissing my girlfriend, Zabini."

"But Draco, it wouldn't be a date if I didn't at least kiss her goodnight."

"Exactly."

"Then would you like to do the honors of distracting Miss Bulstrode?" Zabini challenged knowingly.

Draco glared, clearly struggling with his options.

But to Hermione, there wasn't an option. She did _not _want Millicent Bulstrode putting her meaty paws all over her boyfriend. And Zabini was right, they _had _been pretty successful at keeping their relationship a secret from most of society, although it made her wonder how much longer that would last. She prayed Harry could keep holding his tongue around Ron, because once Ron found out, he'd howl it out for the entire world to hear.

"I'll do it, Zabini," she announced, "but if you are anything less than a gentleman, I reserve the right to hex you."

Zabini grinned. "Of course, Madam."

"Absolutely not. I forbid it," Draco asserted in a hard tone.

Hermione shot him a glare, and Zabini was wise enough to remain silent, watching from the sidelines.

"_Forbid _ it? I am not your _slave _, Draco. You can't _forbid _me from doing anything. If I want to go, I am going, and you cannot stop me."

Her boyfriend stepped forward menacingly, drawing his wand. "I _can _ stop you and I _will _. You are _not_ doing this again, Hermione. I will lock you up in here and hold you down myself if I have to."

Hermione straightened up and drew her own wand. "You can _try _."

"As much as I would _love _to see you two duel over me," Zabini drawled, "my knees are sore and the clock is ticking. I need a plan of action before half past six. Draco, I promise you it is just one evening of dinner and conversation. I'll even play at chivalry and keep my hands to myself."

"And your lips," Draco insisted.

"I need _something _to work with if I am going to convince anyone. Bulstrode is still smarter than Goyle."

"How about a kiss on my cheek?" Hermione suggested. "It's a common greeting and indicates some level of intimacy, which you can twist however you need to in order to be convincing."

Zabini grinned. "Ah, the chaste seduction. I like the way you think, Granger. Will that do, Draco?"

Draco merely glared at his friend, which was as good as consent.

"Brilliant! Granger, I'll floo over in five minutes with your dress for the evening."

The floo shut off and Hermione frowned. "My dress? Why would he have set aside a dress if he wanted you to go?"

"Use your brain, Hermione," Draco snapped. "Why do you think he told you about this mere hours before the date, while I happened to be out?"

Hermione stared at her boyfriend in surprise. Draco was implying a level of manipulation that she was almost afraid to acknowledge. Zabini's first question had been if Draco was there. Had he already known the answer and merely asked to avoid suspicion?

Merlin, being a Slytherin must be exhausting, having to be on guard around your family _and_ your mates. But if he didn't trust Zabini, why would Draco have allowed him into the Fidelius Charm? Slytherin males were so confusing.

"Don't go, Hermione," Draco persisted seriously. "This is a mistake."

She supposed this was the closest to pleading that Draco Malfoy ever got, but she wasn't going to back out now. She had told Zabini she would help him, and it was only one evening.

"Then it's my mistake to make," she replied. "But I don't understand why you're so upset."

"Whatever you do, don't trust him. Stay on your guard."

She frowned. "That's a curious thing to say about your mate."

"We use the term 'mate' loosely."

She sighed and approached him. "Do you have to be so vague all the time? Why can't you just tell me what you're worried about?"

He remained silent, and she shook her head, remembering her promise to herself to be patient with him. He wasn't used to being open about his thoughts, and she understood now more than ever why he was constantly guarded.

"Alright, fine. Don't tell me. I'll just figure it out for myself." She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "I just wish you would trust _me _, is all," she mumbled into him.

He held her tightly to him and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "He's just like his mother," he murmured into her hair, "and they call her The Lethifold for a very good reason."

"Why's that?"

"Because most people don't realize how much danger they're in, and when..._if _they finally do, it's too late."

Her brows furrowed. "You aren't the same as your father was, so why do you assume it of him? He hasn't smothered anyone to death yet, has he?"

"Just…be careful, Hermione…please."

The weight of that single word was immense, like an icy boulder dropping into her stomach, freezing her insides and shocking her awake. If Draco Malfoy, who was an arrogant bastard even at the worst of times, was scared to the point of using the 'p' word, she ought to be very, very cautious where she stepped around Zabini.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll stay alert."

She had a mission tonight, she decided. Yes, she was going to help Zabini get rid of Bulstrode, but she was also going to question him about Draco in the process. Why in Merlin's name were they even friends if Draco couldn't trust him?

Zabini reappeared right on time with a black dress and matching shoes. Hermione took them into the bedroom to change, both curious at his choices for her and dreading having to walk in heels again. Fortunately, Zabini was decently tall, so she could always lean on him for support, and they'd probably be sitting down most of the time, anyway.

She was pleased to find that the dress was nearly floor-length and her arms and collarbone were completely covered by black lace so she didn't feel exposed. The body of it felt nice against her skin, but she didn't know if that was by virtue of the material or if it had been altered with magic. She didn't notice the slit in the side that went up to her knee until she tried putting on the shoes, which seemed like they came with an excess of ribbon.

Never having been a particular fan of fashion magazines, it took her a minute to work out that the shoes were stabilized by crisscrossing the ribbon up her calf and then tying it into a bow. She finished her left leg and stared at it pensively. It was a little too reminiscent of lingerie to her, and Draco's warning replayed in her head.

She shook her head, pushing the thought away and starting to do up her right leg. If Zabini thought he could buy her affection with clothes and shoes, he didn't know her at all. She wasn't like other girls, and she had been through too much with Draco to be drawn away so easily. It was laughable, really, to think that Zabini wanted to steal her away. What did she have to offer him? Fame? She was willing to bet she didn't have enough money to tempt him, if he were like his mother as Draco claimed.

She walked unsteadily to her mirror, glad that the skirt completely covered her legs. She didn't have to show off the ribbon if she didn't want to, she discovered, pacing in front of the mirror. If she took small steps, the skirt only rippled instead of parting at the slit. She'd probably be taking small steps anyway, since these shoes were ridiculously high.

She paced for another minute or so until she was no longer tripping over herself so blatantly, and then deemed herself ready. She took one final, calming breath, pretending she was an Auror going undercover on an assignment. She didn't mind Zabini using her as a scarecrow, but she would very much mind any attempts by him beyond that purpose.

She could do this. Constant vigilance! She allowed another moment for a sad smile in memory of the wizard who had ingrained that motto into her head, and then slowly made her way back down to the living room.

Her eyes sought out Draco the moment she re-entered the room. Their gazes met for a second before his slid slowly down her form. The sight triggered various memories of other times his eyes had taken on that dark, focused intensity, which meant she was the only thing existing in his world at the moment.

She suddenly wondered what Draco would think of the shoes, and made a mental note to ask Zabini if she could keep them, and maybe the dress, too, just so she could find out.

In the meantime, she enjoyed watching the emotions flicker over his face, first lust, then jealousy, and finally a determined stare when he met her gaze again.

She bit her lip hard, trying not to grin at her clear effect on him, and she noticed his hands clenching. She was rather proud of him, considering he hadn't needed to restrain his libido with her for a long time. It would have been quite rude of him to drag her away when they had both promised Zabini she would go with him tonight. She decided right then and there she would make it up to him when she returned, heels or no heels.

Merlin knew that after a heated stare like that, she wouldn't be able to keep her hands off him for long, anyway.

Zabini cleared his throat, and Hermione broke their stare, flushing a little because she had essentially ignored her 'date'.

"Sorry, Zabini. You like nice," she offered.

And he did. He looked very nice in his tailored suit, and it occurred to her that they were dressed very…well, muggle.

"Where are we going?" she asked, for Draco's benefit as much as her own curiosity.

"The Three Broomsticks."

Hermione stared at him. "You made me dress up in _this _just to go to Hogsmeade?"

"No, Granger. I told Bulstrode to meet me there before dinner for drinks. She'll see you and bugger off. If not, then I'll claim that I thought today was Saturday because that's when my date with you is."

"And if she does leave, then we'll go home as well?"

"No, I'm still going to take you out and show you a good time, Granger. It's the least I can do for helping me with this."

"Is that how you thanked Draco, too?" she teased, "Taking him on romantic dates?"

Both males shuddered with disgust all over their faces. "Mate, I just imagined you in a dress, and even _you _aren't pretty enough."

"Shove it, Blaise. _I'd _be the wizard and _you'd _be the witch, because I'm taller."

"But I'm manlier."

"I am _not _effeminate!"

"You look fairly delicate to me."

"Only because you've never seen me naked. Be careful what you eat tonight so you don't ruin your witchly figure."

"Why, do you think there's a chance Granger'll see me naked? You're right, I shouldn't eat too much so I can have dessert later."

Hermione experienced the next several seconds like skipping large sections of a flipbook. Draco's arm moved, a flash of yellow light, a muffled "Fuck!", then Zabini was on the floor clutching his mouth.

"I dare you to eat any dessert like _that _," Draco sneered.

"Puh ih bach!" Zabini demanded through his hands.

Hermione frowned at the standoff, still trying to figure out what had just happened. Obviously, 'dessert' was a metaphor for something, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what.

"Draco, what did you just do?"

He smirked. "He has such a filthy mouth, Hermione. I had to vanish his tongue so he wouldn't use it inappropriately. On anyone." Then he turned back to Zabini. "Especially my _girlfriend _," he snarled.

Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to piece all the clues together. What did Zabini's naked body, his tongue and her...

"Oh. _Oh! _ Zabini!" she scolded, blushing from the implication. "That is _completely _inappropriate! Since you find it so hilarious to provoke him on purpose, I don't think I _want _to help you anymore."

"Aw, com ah, Granyah!"

Draco moved to her side. "You shouldn't, Hermione. He clearly doesn't appreciate your generosity," he declared. Then he leaned in to whisper into her ear, "And I can't _wait _until this pretty dress is a pretty heap of cloth on the floor."

The husky tone of his voice and the fingers burning her skin straight through the fabric at the small of her back made her lose all focus on the topic at hand, so she leaned into him. His suggestion sounded like a _very _good way to end the night.

"Oi!" Zabini yelled, regaining their attention.

Hermione sighed, pulling out of Draco's embrace. "Alright, I think he's suffered enough. Give it back, Draco."

The blond frowned. "No."

She raised her eyebrows. "_Now_, Draco. Or you won't be getting any dessert either. Of _any _sort."

Her boyfriend raised an eyebrow and smirked cockily. "And how will you ensure that?"

She smirked back. "I'll floo directly to Harry and Ginny's and stay there until I think you've learned your lesson. If I tell Ginny I don't want to see you, you know she won't let you within a mile of the house, and Harry would love the excuse to hunt you down and hex you."

Draco scowled, and Zabini chuckled behind his hand.

"Shut up, Blaise!" he snapped. "I swear, if you touch any part of her not already agreed upon, even Salazar won't be able to save you."

Zabini nodded in understanding and Draco reversed the spell.

"Ah," Zabini sighed wiggling his tongue to make sure it was in working order. "Thanks, mate." He turned to Hermione and held out his arm, bent at the elbow. "Ready, my lady?"

She raised herself up on tiptoe to kiss Draco on the lips. "I promise I'll make it up to you when I get back."

He shot a mild glare at her. "You better," he grumbled.

"I love you," she said expectantly.

"I love you, too," he sulked.

She beamed at him. "See, it's not so hard to say."

"'No, I won't help you, Zabini' isn't that difficult to say, either," he sniped.

She gave him a disapproving look and he went back to sulking.

"If you stop delaying me, I'll give you an extra-special treat when I get back..." she tempted.

"Like what?"

She whispered into his ear what she planned to do for him.

His eyebrow rose. "You'd do that?"

She nodded with a slight smirk, knowing he couldn't resist.

"Alright, then. Have a good meal. Come back soon." He kissed her lips once and walked away, searching for some way to amuse himself for the next few hours.

Zabini didn't bother hiding the shock on his face. "I joke about him being whipped, but that was a bloody miracle. What did you promise him?"

She let her smirk grow a little as she wrapped her hand around the proffered elbow. "I promised him cheesecake for dessert."

He waited expectantly for her to clarify, but she pulled him toward the fireplace instead, letting him decide for himself if she meant it literally or figuratively.

~~~\~~~

**A/N2: **Your homework this time is: What do you think Hermione's bookstore should be called? I'm not feeling particularly set on any one name I've come up with, so please inspire me! Until next time!


End file.
